


Imposition

by HPNS



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, First War with Voldemort, Friendship, Out of Character, Slytherin, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28645323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPNS/pseuds/HPNS
Summary: Because of the freakish accident, Harry found himself in the past. Surrounded by new and old faces, with a familiar war brewing in the shadows, he will have to choose between what is right and what is easy. But choices aren't always what they seem to be. Time Travel, AU, First War fic.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	1. New Old

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome. So this is my go at one of the tropes that is probably cliche and overused, but I had a great time reading such stories and decided to give it a go. There are some inconsistencies between this and canon (Harry having knowledge about some people so just assume Harry was a bit more proactive and read more about OotP and DEs during his time in Hogwarts). I won't bother with explaining how exactly time travel happened as it's not important to the story, and will rather start with the past already happening. You're free to review, but I'd appreciate them to be constructive ones, rather than writeshaming. If there are mistakes, or the story is inconsistent or whatever, feel free to tell me so, I'll try to fix it, and maybe we end up with a decent story. Who knows.

_How?_ Harry thought as he ran his hand through his messy hair, and wiped a bit of sweat that had collected over his right eyebrow. _Is this possible?_

He was sitting at the opposite side of the Great Hall of where he was used to, under the green and silver banners that seemed to mock him with their every flutter, even though there was no wind.

There were many unknown faces around him, and he was certain that any moment someone would figure he didn't belong there and start shouting. His arm never went far from his wand, and his eyes constantly shifted their attention.

But nothing happened.

Slytherins chatted under their voices and were doing the usual; some sneered and kept sending dirty glances all around the hall, some seemed clueless and fully focused on the food in front of them, and some drank tea or coffee, deep in the magazines or newspapers.

Harry was not sure about his course of action.

The figures of Dumbledore and McGonagall provided some gentle comfort, but he knew better than to approach them. He vividly remembered Hermione's words: "Dangerous things happen to wizards who meddle with time," she had said, and he hadn't understood it then. Now, though, the whole plethora of things that could go wrong flashed in his mind, and he was ready to take her words to the heart.

The Dementors in Little Whinging were a lucky coincidence. Or a rather unlucky one. He wasn't sure if they were the ones behind this freakish fiasco, or if they were just the part of Harry's charm, but he knew that their overwhelming presence was the only reason why he hadn't started freaking out the moment he found himself in Hogwarts.

Their dread gave him just enough time to take two deep breaths and to consider the situation to the best of his abilities.

He was quick to determine that it sucked.

"Looking forward to classes, Potter?" The voice startled him, and he was barely on time not to hex the girl that was sitting close to him. Well, _closest to._

It was a rather pretty girl, with long, black hair that was tied up in a clumsy ponytail and grey eyes a good chunk of purebloods seemed to share, but Harry couldn't place her. "Yeah," he said, barely keeping his voice even, and wiping a bit of sweat once again. "What about you?"

"Same," she said as she stabbed a small piece of toast with her fork. "We're supposed to learn loads this year."

Harry got the impression the girl talked to him just because she was bored, but he couldn't just pass such an opportunity to learn a thing or two about _now_. "And your summer?" Harry tried. "Had fun?"

_Not too pushy_ , Harry thought, but it still earned him a raised eyebrow.

"I guess," she finally said. "Father dragged me to France to meet some important people." She chuckled, but Harry heard no humor in it. "You never know when you might need something from the sheep," she continued in a fake deep voice, which in Harry's opinion made a bad impression of her father, even though he had no idea who the man was.

He allowed his mouth to twitch.

"Were you all polite and proper?"

"Of course I was." She put the toast in her mouth, chewed a few times, and added before swallowing, "I'll have you know I'm a real lady."

Harry grinned. "I can see," he said.

She tilted her head to the side and looked at him. "Aren't you all chatty this morning, Potter?"

His grin faded. So he had made a blunder. _Marvelous._ He looked around and saw more than one curious face glancing in their direction as if they saw him for the first time. He supposed they did.

"I had a change of heart." He decided to stick with the truth.

"You did, didn't you?" she said quietly, her voice getting an edge to it. "Interesting."

Harry frowned. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"In Slytherin?" she asked, and her lips stretched in a wide, sharp smile. "Quite."

"Or maybe I just realized how much I was missing by not talking to you," he tried with a grin. If the hat had thought he'd do well in Slytherin, then he'll prove it to be true.

She didn't blush or anything but Harry was certain he could see the tiniest of the smiles on her face. "Oh, I think I'm going to like this new you," she said and Harry saw all the opening he needed.

"Then perhaps introductions are in order," he said, trying to sound how important people do, and puffed his chest, offering his hand. "Harry Potter, the new one."

She said nothing for a few seconds, staring at him, her eyes slightly widened, but just when his spirits started to die, her eyes narrowed, and she blinked, which Harry thought looked unnaturally innocent and cute, and offered her arm. Not to accept his offered hand, but straight, like a zombie would, with her hand loose and her long delicate fingers pointing down.

"Eileen Rosier, at my Lord's service," she breathed out, quietly and coldly, and Harry, understanding the hint, kissed her hand. It was cold.

_What a girl._

Harry then shook his head and laughed, her own joining him after a second, and they created a short sort of melody.

"You're not hungry," she said.

"Not really." He shrugged it off. "Never could eat much in the mornings."

"I see," she said in a tone as if he had offered some grand knowledge or a very personal detail about himself. "You can walk me to the common room then."

"Certainly," Harry agreed and pushed himself from the table. "Shall we?"

It was only when they left the Great Hall that Harry risked the glance at Rosier. They were about the same height and walked with some distance between them, like people do when they're forced to walk together with someone they barely know.

"Why didn't you wait for your friends?" Harry asked.

"My friends?" she said, gathering her eyebrows. "I thought I was already with one."

"Sure," Harry said. "But it's a bit random isn't it?"

"I like random."

"Of course you do," Harry muttered, but she must have heard him. Her small smile told him so. "Evan is your brother, right?

She suddenly stopped and turned to face him, her eyes narrowed. "What of him?" she said softly.

"Just wondering." Harry shrugged and was about to continue, but her hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"What of him?" she repeated.

"I was just wondering if you guys are close." Harry did his best to keep his voice even, if a bit curious. It wasn't like he knew much about the guy, except that he ended up being a Death Eater and died by Moody's wand.

She searched his face for another second before pulling her hand back. "We are," she finally said. "But I wasn't aware you took notice of him." She frowned. "You _ought not_ take notice of him."

"You weren't aware of me till this morning," Harry said, ignoring her warning. "You're bound to be surprised once in every while." He tried to ease her with a friendly smile, but it didn't seem to work much.

She made a sound and continued deeper into a dungeon, and Harry followed, quickly shifting himself to reach the previous distance between them. They walked all the way to the Slytherin dorms in silence and Harry used his time to rethink his strange disposal.

He still couldn't place exactly _when_ he was, and silently chided himself for not trying to search for more familiar faces back in the Great Hall. He avoided thinking about Ron and Hermione too, mentally distancing himself. This was just another adventure, and he had more than enough experience with those.

He just had to keep his head cold. _As if that ever worked._

A humorless chuckle escaped his throat, earning him a strange glance from Eileen.

"Wormwood," she said and the hole in the wall opened. They walked to the center of the room, a few oddballs around them reading and relaxing. It was a bit awkward as they turned to face one another.

"I'll go up to give one last reread to our assignments," she said but didn't move.

"Alright," Harry said and shifted his weight.

She bit her lip. "Will you be going to lunch?"

"Yeah," he said, and then added unsurely, "I'll meet you there?"

"Oh?" She tilted her head to the side. "Have plans in the meanwhile, haven't you?"

"Err." He winced under her searching look. "I'll hit the library. You know, loads to learn this year," he finished with a confident grin.

"Sure," she said off-handedly, but the most genuine smile Harry saw on her today lit her face. It made her that much more pretty, he couldn't help but notice, and had to look away.

"See you there, then," he said at last, but she was already heading for the girls' room. Alone in the middle of the room, and looking more stupid with each second that passed, he decided to head for his own room. Perhaps there were some clues in his trunk.

To his relief, fifth-year boys' dorms were empty, and he quickly located his own bed. Opening his trunk, however, was an entirely different pair of gloves. It was annoyingly well charmed; even though Harry felt a familiar sting of magic coming from it, it still refused to recognize him as the caster and he had to manually go over all of the charms, one by one, in the correct order. So he countercharmed, jinxed, hexed, undid, and repeated all of it for a good ten minutes before he heard a satisfying _clank._

He could be quite clever when he wanted.

The trunk's insides offered a few insights into his new life. It seemed he was an only child of two Potters Harry had never heard about, Charlus and Dorea, both of whom were dead for a year. A neat stack of various bills showed him that he spent the most of summer in different accommodations, be it a muggle motel or Leaky Cauldron. He also seemed to do a bit of shopping; new robes, broom, cauldrons, and potions kit had that gleam about them that only new stuff had.

The thing that certainly surprised him was a stack of books that was half-hidden by his muggle clothes. The thick tomes provided some interesting titles and Harry hummed as he went through them.

_Time, and Time Again_ , one was called, and Harry felt his eyebrows raising up. Was the time itself trying to tell him something? He put it in a cleverly sewed pocket inside his robes that seemed to spread just enough for the book to fit and gave a closer inspection to other titles.

They were all about the subjects he had taken, expanding the topics further, and Harry wasn't sure if time was mocking him or overestimating him.

_The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ was a title that seemed to be an odd one out. The first few sentences told him they were actually stories, probably meant for the kids, but he was interested nonetheless. He never had the chance to properly read one in his time.

"Potter," a familiar voice called him, and Harry turned around. A black hair, longer than his, and almost black eyes. A hint of sneer on his lips, and dark, stained robes. It was a familiar sight Harry had always dreaded to see. It was a single person Harry hated to see, apart from Lord Voldemort.

"Snape," Harry said quietly, and the little color he had left his face. He felt his heart pounding and something raising up his throat. "What are you doing here?" he managed.

"I could ask you the same," Snape said and continued toward his bed. "Not that I care, Potter," he added and Harry heard an extra poison in his voice when he'd said, _Potter._

It took Harry a moment to realize why Snape already hated him and then it finally clicked, and his eyes widened. Luckily, Snape was busy fishing things out from his trunk to notice his starting panic attack. There was definitely something in his throat now, and he made a quick way to the toilet, barely managing to keep his vomit in on the way.

He hugged the toilet seat and let it all out, and wanted to do more, even when there was nothing left to leave him. He tried to take a deep breath, but ended up coughing, a bit of saliva falling from his mouth.

"You alright?" Harry heard and turned his head. Snape had a cauldron and some sort of herb in his hands and seemed more curious than concerned as he looked at Harry.

"I'm fine," Harry said after a moment. "Breakfast didn't agree with me."

"Glad to know it's not a morning sickness," Snape said and smirked. "The last thing this world needs is yet another Potter."

Harry gave him a look and hoped he managed to put all his loathing for the man into it. "Sod off, Snape."

Snape slightly raised his chin and said, "Gladly," and left, leaving Harry alone once more.

_He was in the same bloody year with his parents!_

The thought alone made him dizzy and he quickly went to sit down on his bed, and breathed, deep and slow. They probably hated him too, being Gryffindors and him being Slytherin, he reckoned and shook his head.

1975, he realized, and choked on nothing. Twenty years back. This also meant that Voldemort has been active for a few years, and was preparing a stage for his big entrance. Just excellent.

There was nothing to do, but to figure more about now, and Harry was fairly certain that the library was the best place to begin. So he went.

* * *

Harry politely nodded to a librarian, a woman he did not recognize, and was surprised when she just narrowed her eyes at him. Baffled, he went to the history section. He had to start somewhere.

"Hey, Potter," he heard and turned around. Four boys were eyeing him with different levels of amusement, interest, and loathing.

Harry nodded. "Guys," he greeted. "Running a bit late with your assignments, huh?"

"Sure," one said, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Why don't you join us?"

Harry shrugged and said. "Sure." He took a seat and asked, "What are you up to?"

"This and that," the same boy said, now definitely smiling, and indicated the one next to Harry with a move of his head. "Mulciber here told me you're a decent sort of wizard."

Harry glanced sideways. Mulciber was a tall guy, with unassuming features if not for a gleaming light in his brown eyes. They were sparkling in a way some eyes do, but Harry never knew how some people managed to pull it off, or were it natural. What he knew is that he found them unnerving.

"I'm certainly striving forward to being seen as a _decent_ sort," Harry said with a smile of his own and the other boy laughed in good humor.

"Fine ambition, I'm sure," he said. "I don't think we were introduced properly. I'm Evan and this." He nudged the boy next to him. "And this is, well, he prefers Avery."

"Avery is fine," Avery said.

"I'm Harry."

"A Slytherin Potter," Mulciber said quietly and looked at Harry as if he had seen him for the first time. "A miracle," he added, his mouth twitching.

"The quiet one," the fourth boy said. His voice was deep and soft, and he had a look about him like he constantly brooded. Harry assumed they were in the same year, as Evan hadn't bothered to introduce them.

"Alright, we got it," Evan said, and looked at Harry, his gray eyes intense but not cold. "Say, have you heard about that march Squibs did another day?"

"Oh?" Harry said, careful to keep his voice even. He thought it was a clever thing to do around people he knew were future Death Eaters.

"Yep," he said, his _p_ nice and long. "They've been about their rights for forever."

"They are not the only ones though, right?" Harry asked quietly. He had a pretty good idea what this talk was about now.

"No," Evan said, amused. "All kinds are demanding to be treated like equals these days, but you seem to know that already." He tilted his head to the side, his eyes firm on Harry's. "Old Abraxas is having none of it, of course, and how he keeps himself in Minister's good graces only Merlin knows. But the thing is that these _demands_ are happening."

"For a while now," Harry added, and nodded.

"Mm," Avery said in a voice that could mean both yes and no. "What Rosier's trying to ask is what do you think about it."

Evan rolled his eyes. "Very subtle, Avery," he said, but there was no venom in his voice. Avery punched him in the shoulder.

Harry took a leap, and said, "About muggles? I don't care much about them as long as they don't bother me. And squibs can march as long as they want, but it's not like they can do something, right?"

Mulciber snickered. "They literally _can't._ They'd like to come to Hogwarts," he said and scoffed. "As if we need more useless no-good mu- "

"Mulciber," Avery said through his teeth, and Mulciber was quick to narrow his head and stop talking.

"Don't you feel…" Evan trailed.

"Threatened," Avery finished for him, and looked at Harry, frowning. "There's more to being a wizard than having a stick and waving it around. No one seems to care enough to educate those mud-, Muggleborns about it.

"We do," the fourth boy whose name Harry has yet to learn said quietly. "We care," he continued, looking at Avery who raised an eyebrow at him. "But will we do something?"

"That's the thing, Wilkes, why we're talking and all." Evan lowered his voice. "It seems like someone is doing something about it."

"Anyway," Harry interrupted their staring contest. "It's clear to me that everyone here at Hogwarts has enough magic to turn out as a decent wizard, and we all know you must be born with it in order for it to work for you, right? So it's not them who are the problem, but the lack of interest from the ministry in those matters."

"What do you mean?" Avery asked, and seemed like he was actually interested in Harry's opinion.

"That I don't feel threatened because I already have a place in this society. But Muggleborns have no idea what's waiting for them once they leave the castle." It was easy for Harry to speak about it, as he had the same experience. "I think it's them that feels threatened the most, with everyone looking down at them and them not understanding the first thing about families like ours. Or about ministry, for that matter."

"Huh," Evan said, his eyes going left and right. "So what you're saying that you want them...integrated as a part of our society? How would you go about that?"

"Err, I think the biggest problem is that even after Hogwarts they think about themselves as Muggles. That's where they go every summer, and that's where their parents live. It seems kinda natural to me that they'd feel pulled back there later," Harry said and added a sneer for a good measure.

"Hmm," Evan said, still looking unsure. "So you'd break the connection they have to the Muggle world, essentially taking a whole part of their life away, and force them to adjust to our world. If they don't, they won't be able to survive."

"Harsh, Potter," Avery said, and smiled, a look that frightened Harry because of how honest it looked. "I like it. It's not like it's their fault anyway. Grindelwald had the right idea when he had said that we ought to take them in as soon as they show the signs of being magical."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That's what you're for? If it's magical, it belongs here, with us?"

"The fuck you talking about?" Mulciber asked, but Avery's narrowed eyes showed Harry that the older boy already guessed.

"There are many magical species, Mulciber," Harry said. "None of them have the same rights as us. Not even close."

"Please," Mulciber scoffed, but Harry noticed others looked interested. "What would Goblin do with a wand? A centaur with land? A bloody Dementor with a paycheck? Don't be absurd."

Harry shook his head. "Having the same rights means that they could get those if they want them," he said. "Of course, bar Goblins, they don't give a shit about those things. Squibs are marching because they want to learn subjects they can, like potions or herbology, so they can contribute to society. Centaur just wants a place of their own, a forest or whatever. They won't be taking anything from you, us, directly. As I said, I'm not feeling threatened."

"Centaurs are one thing," Avery started, "but Goblins proved they're not to be trusted with any kind of power. And they have their own laws in their holes and caves."

"We're just talking, right?"

Evan slowly nodded. "Yes."

"Alright then. Equal rights doesn't mean sharing power. Give every species an office in the ministry that'll help them settle their own matters, and that's it. We've got the wands and by far the most power about us, at least as far as I've seen. They'd all be stupid to go against us. Our power would never be threatened," Harry said.

"That's a major reform," Evan said, not contradicting.

"They'd never go for it. Heck, even my dad wouldn't go for it," Avery added.

"Muggles are the worst threat anyway," Mulciber said and randomly swung his arm. "And the filth like werewolves and vampires. They'd have us all being like them before they're happy."

"And ministry," added Wilkes, causing all of them to turn their heads toward him. "What?" He raised his hands. "It's their fault for not recognizing threats and acting. It needs to be rebuilt. I'd go so far and say that even ICW is useless by now. They couldn't even stop Grindelwald. How do you think they'll fare once muggles start to attack us?"

"That's the most I've heard you say in a month, Wilkes," Mulciber said with a grin. "I'd say so too. Fuck the ministry and its bans and muggle-loving fools. Fuck 'em all"

"Mulciber!" Avery said forcefully. "Be bloody careful."

He just shrugged. "Potter's fine. I told you so."

"Indeed I am," Harry said and grinned. "A proper, decent wizard."

It was a weird thing for Harry to be seen as fine by Death Eaters, but the last thing he needed was to watch out for them for the next three years. Not that he wasn't on his guard either.

A moment of silence stretched for a long moment.

"Would you join our club then?" Evan asked.

Harry took a sharp breath in. "A-A club?"

Evan shrugged. "Nothing special, mind you. Just the four of us dueling, discussing magic and so," he said. "Imagine it like this, but with more magic involved."

"Oh, right," Harry said and blinked. "I'll let you know when I get my schedule, if that's alright? OWL year, you know." He tried to brush it off.

"Mmm," Evan said and straightened his back, towering over Harry. His sheer presence somehow grew. "Let us know tomorrow, will you?"

"Sure," Harry quickly agreed. "As soon as I get my schedule."

"One last thing, though," Evan said and Harry saw Avery rolling his eyes and Mulciber chucked. Even Wilkes was smirking. "I saw you with my sister earlier."

Harry raised an eyebrow and allowed himself a small smile, feeling braver than he had any right to. "Oh, are you going to warn me now? I've never got one of _those._ "

Mulciber snickered again.

"Yes," Evans said bluntly, leaning a few inches closer to Harry. "She's my sister and she's…"

"Delicate," Avery said knowingly, an innocent expression on his face.

"A flower," Mulciber added quietly and sighed, shaking his head slowly. Harry thought it was a good impression, but the twitching of his mouth somewhat ruined it.

Harry was about to laugh, but Evan's unamused face had him keeping his face unmoved, blank. "We were just talking," he said and was about to continue, but Evan was already standing up, and others followed the motion.

"Later, Potter."

"See you around."

Wilkes nodded, and just like that, they were gone.

Harry finally let out his breath, which felt like he was holding it for the duration of the whole conversation. He had a pretty strong feeling that he is about to join the club that will very soon swear its allegiance to Voldemort, and it left a strange, ugly taste in his mouth.

What was worse was that he couldn't find hate within himself for these people. Whatever he had thought before about them, it was clear that they weren't those people just yet. Wilkes and Evan hadn't yet died in service of Lord Voldemort, Mulciber wasn't in Azkaban, and Avery was not _imperiused_ by Voldemort. They were just a bunch of friends.

_Slytherins_ , the voice in his head added, _with a taste for politics and dark magic_.

He noticed they have left the book behind them, and the opened chapter appropriately said, _Origin of Squibs._

Harry frowned. He was sure that he had once heard some saying that Slytherins do nothing without a reason. So what was this? A message?

Deep in thoughts, Harry too stood up, and, with zero research done, headed back to the Slytherin common room.

He had another Rosier to deal with.

* * *

Harry deliberately sat with his back facing the Gryffindor table. He wasn't ready to face his parents. Nor his godfather. Nor the traitor.

"You've been awfully quiet since the library," Eileen said and poured herself a cup of tea, ignoring the food. "Already had another change of heart?"

Harry himself had some food in front of him but didn't feel brave enough to eat it just yet. He was sure all of it would leave his body just a few moments later. "Nothing of the sort," he said instead and raised his head to face her. "Just grateful to be in your company?"

"Is that so?" she asked innocently, but there was more to her voice." The company you've had in the library was not up to your tastes?"

Harry's eyes widened for only a split of seconds but he was sure she had caught it, nosy knowing witch. "I was invited," he said softly. "My tastes are obvious from the fact that I've accepted the invitation, aren't they?"

"Perhaps," she said flatly and took a sip of tea. The moment seemed to last forever. "Just an hour after you asked me about him."

"Mulciber thought it fit to introduce us."

"Mulciber? What in Merlin's name you have on Mulciber?" Harry was confused for a second, but then realized what she must be thinking. It would be a shame to correct her, though, so he blinked, and tilted his head to the side.

"I don't think I'm following," he said, a hint of question in his voice.

She snorted. "Of course you don't."

Harry wasn't sure what to say so he remained silent and pushed a piece of chicken around his plate.

Her eyes followed it. "You're not hungry?"

"Not particularly?"

"Are you on potions?"

"What?" he asked, confused. "You mean like drugs?"

She shrugged, her face betraying nothing. "That or the replacement for the food. Some wizards prefer not to eat."

There was something about the way she had said _some_ that made Harry sure she knew someone who did so. "Just not my day, I guess," he said instead, and grinned. "My plate is kinda full."

She actually _giggled_ and put one hand over her mouth. "Merlin, that was awful," she said

Still, she laughed and he counted it as a win. "So what do you want to do later?" he asked, feeling bold.

"We?" she said, a small smile gracing her lips. "Well, it just so happens that Slughorn's New Schoolyear Dinner requires a date."

"Oh," he said. "Alright then. I'm sure you'll have fun." He had no idea who the man was or what that dinner was but she made it sound important. Her voice did, at least.

"Did you actually just say that?" she said, and Harry saw her mouth becoming a very small, thin line.

He frowned. "Huh?" It took him a whole second of staring at her angry eyes to figure what she wanted, and he felt the heat in his cheeks when he did so. "Oh, right, sorry." He cleared his throat. "Will you allow me to be your date for the dinner party?" he said as pompous as he could, and it somewhat calmed her.

"I'm tempted to think about it, but as the time is short, I'll gracefully accept."

"Why thank you," he said and grinned, as charmingly as he could. "So what are we going to do now?"

"Girls will want to catch up with me," she said, and I followed her eyes down the table. The two pretty girls sat a bit excluded from the rest and animatedly chatted, their heads close, and their smiles strangely similar to ones he remembered Lavender and Parvati sporting. "And then I'll prepare for the dinner."

"What? But that's hours later." Harry said.

She just raised an eyebrow at him and gave him such a look that he felt as twice as stupid as usually.

"Right," he said. "Whatever."

"You can go to the _library_ ," she said sweetly and he rolled his eyes. She was apparently done with her tea. "Just don't embarrass me."

Without another word, she left, leaving Harry alone, with his mouth slightly open.

A voice, coming from down the bench, suddenly startled Harry. "A date, huh?" Evan wore a pleasant expression, but the words were just a bit too sweet.

"I too have just learned about it," Harry said and raised his hands.

Evan frowned and his face remained in a curious expression. "I've been thinking, Potter."

"And how did you like the experience?"

He _did_ smile. "I'm not much about coincidences," he said and his massive shoulders did a small shrug. "And here you, basically a ghost for the last four years, somehow got to talk to both me and my sister in a single day."

"Lucky me," Harry muttered, but Evan remained serious.

"It means," he continued. "That you decided to throw yourself with our lot." Harry didn't bother to comment, but the implication made him concerned. It wasn't even his fault that he got here. It just happened. But he could also understand Evan's train of thoughts, and he knew there was no means known to a wizardkind to go in the future so he smiled and inclined his head.

"It's a good lot to be part of," he said.

Evan slowly nodded. "It is," he said and made a small pause. "We often thought about your sorting, you know. Was it fluke or some hidden brilliance pushing you towards us? Lucius reminded us that your mother was actually Slytherin. Still, very unusual for Potter to end up here."

"That's nice," Harry said, but it failed to ruffle Evan.

"It was clever of you to walk alone, sure, if you've wanted to avoid trouble, but now that you've chosen side, it might be a tad different."

"I wasn't aware there are sides," Harry said.

"Oh, don't be naive," Evan said humorlessly and nodded toward the other tables. "Look at them. The things happened and they're already placing the blame on us."

Harry turned around, carefully avoiding Gryffindor's table, and looked. And he saw. More than one face was openly staring back at them, and there were even more glancing towards this or that kid. Harry was quick to figure out the surnames of those kids. There was a single emotion in all those eyes, clear as day. It was hate, plain and simple.

"You see it, don't you?" Evan said softly.

Harry felt many things, but the confusion was the most prominent of them all, and he felt his chest going heavy. Back at home, everything seemed so easy; he knew who he loved and who he hated, he knew what he was all about, and he knew his goal was to survive and to kick Voldemort's pale bottom back from where it came.

Here, though, everything was scary and new, strange and unpredictable.

He looked at the professors' table and saw Dumbledore. He was surprised to see the old man watching the Slytherin table, looking terribly sad and grim. But he also saw something deeper in Dumbledore's eyes; the same look Dudley had when he watched the new kids who arrived at Privet Drive for whatever reason. He was assessing them.

Their eyes met, and it took Harry a whole second to figure out this man wouldn't be his friend this time. He was still mad at Dumbledore. He received zero letters and news from both Dumbledore and his friends and he was more than sure about the reason behind that.

Harry was aware that Dumbledore's heart was at the right place, but he also knew that he didn't know the man back in the 70s. Better safe than sorry, indeed.

Harry turned back to Evans. "So will you tell me more about _our_ side then?" he asked.

Evan laughed. "Easy, kid. Gotta learn walking before you go running, right?"

"Your club, huh?"

" _Our_ club," Evan corrected and Harry couldn't help but smile. "If you have questions, ask."

"Exactly what kind of magic do you talk about?"

"We talk about magic that interests us. We cast whatever we want to." Evan shrugged. "We're quite liberal in that sense."

"You won't push me if I don't feel comfortable with whatever the magic?"

He raised his eyebrows. "No. We've all had...tutoring from our parents and we know there are branches within branches of magic, and that some might, well, change you. It's like you said about equal rights. The freedom to practice the magic you want is what makes the difference. If you don't want to, that's fine, but don't poke your nose in my business either."

"Live and let live, huh?"

"Just so," Evan said and smirked.

The two sat in the comfortable silence, each in their own thoughts. Perhaps Evan and his group were the best way for Harry to survive and to get rid of Voldemort. All he needed to do was to wait for his younger self to banish him into nothingness for ten years.

_But at the price of your parents,_ a voice in his head reminded him.

Harry was once again reminded that he needed more information about now. About what was going on. There was also one thing that he never considered back then, but it was clear that he will have to look into it at this point.

_What is this war all about?_


	2. Young and Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this will seem shippy, but I tagged the story as general/drama so don't expect me spending a lot of time on romance if any at all.

Slytherin's common room was almost empty, and even though it was just the beginning of September, flames gently licked the sides of the giant fireplace, and the wood softly cracked in every while. The sun was falling, and the small amount of light that survived through the lake and the enchanted glass, provided a faint greenish light, creating a somewhat spooky, but comfortable atmosphere.

Only Harry and another boy inhabited it at the moment, and Harry caught the boy glancing at him more than once, but was reluctant to start talking to him. He looked incredibly young, but there was something about his eyes that made Harry believe he was older than he seemed to be.

At least, his mind was.

Boy, like Harry, was dressed smart, and quite expensive. His posture was straight, with a confidence only a Pureblood could pull off. Even young, Harry couldn't help but describe the boy as handsome.

The boy was braver than Harry, it would seem.

"Going to Slughorn's party?" he asked.

Harry spared him just a glance before returning his attention to the door that would open any second now. "Yeah. Rosier invited me."

"Eileen?" he asked.

"Yeah," Harry said. "You know her?"

"We're cousins. My aunt, Druella, was Rosier before she married into the family," he said and laughed rather humorlessly. "That makes her Eileen's aunt too, I guess."

Harry snorted. "Sounds about right. Who are you going with?"

"Runcorn." He didn't sound very pleased. "As a favor to my mother."

Harry thought that was quite some parenting strategy, but didn't comment.

"Is she at least pretty," he asked and grinned. Even the boy's mouth twitched.

"How vain." A cold voice that suddenly filled the silence made them both jump, and Harry was quick to turn around.

He had to override every cell in his body to stop himself from gaping. It was no secret that Eileen was pretty, but right now she looked spectacular. Harry had no words to explain it.

There was something about her black dress that offered only a hint of pale ankles. Or maybe the way she let hair loose, wavy and black as night, covering the lack of silk on her shoulders.

She was trying to hide a smile, Harry was sure, but that was okay since he _definitely_ contained a large grin that was threatening to break his composure.

"We're boys," Harry said at last and shrugged. "We're supposed to be vain."

"Or so we are told," the boy added and offered a wide, polite smile to Eileen. "It's been a while."

"Regulus." She smiled back at him. "Your mother and aunt Druella are well, I hope?"

"As lively as ever," the boy said dryly and they shared a laugh. It worked to ease them both a little, and Harry hated to break the moment up, but since he was in 1975, he reckoned he deserved to be an arse now and then.

He cleared his throat and said, "I've heard girls too are vain and demand compliments on occasions such as this."

"Is that so?" she narrowed her eyes.

"Yep," he said confidently, and let the long moment pass, before he closed to her ear. "But between the two of us, I was never one for the gossip."

"No?" she breathed out, which in turn made him much more bothered than he would care to admit.

Instead of answering, he boldly grabbed her hand and went for the entrance of the common room. He had zero intention of making a fool of himself in front of Regulus, but as soon as they passed it, he turned around to face her.

"You look beautiful, Eileen." She gave him a blank look. "Really, though. You put the moon to the shame."

"The moon?" she said with an emotion he couldn't decipher.

"Yeah. I like the moon," he said, and a corner of her mouth twitched a bit, only for a small smile to appear just a second later. He breathed out in relief. What he did right, unfortunately, he had no idea.

"Shall we then?" He offered his arm, and let her drag him towards the place.

He let her do the small talk on the way, and responded only at appropriate times, with small noises of agreement or encouragement, and focused on her looks.

He didn't notice it before, due to school robes, but she was extremely thin. The absurd notion of crushing her waist with one hand seemed realistic. Strangely, she reminded Harry of an hourglass.

He failed to realize they stopped and had to blink to figure what was going on.

"Are you even listening?"

"Err, sure?"

"I swear, Potter-"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry. We'll make the entrance of the year."

She raised her chin. "Lead on, then."

And they entered.

The room Harry found himself in was large and round, and filled with people of all sorts. One side was completely taken by the table that was more of a square shape, but Harry was certain that some magic was involved since the table didn't cut the room at all. The other part of it was reserved for the mingling, something Harry knew Purebloods liked to do, and there were many different-aged men and women doing the circles. It was almost like a dance with a special set of rules that Harry knew nothing of.

But if he is to do this right, he'll have to learn.

Ron would hate it all, and would call them all ponces, and Hermione would shriek in delight because of so many important people she could learn from. The sheer notion of them felt like a knife in his soft belly, but he just swallowed and closed his eyes for a while.

When he opened them again, only determination remained.

"Welcome, welcome," the man came forward to greet them. "And who did you bring Miss. Rosier?"

The older man whose hair had just started to retreat, and who must have swallowed a wrecking ball at some point in his life stood just in front of them, and Harry figured it was Professor Slughorn.

His watery eyes, which had a hint of red about them, took Harry in for a long moment before he said jovially, "Mr, Potter! I knew you would cave one day, heh. And with Miss. Rosier too! "

"It was a close call, professor," Harry said with an easy smile. "But I just couldn't resist her _charm._ "

Slughorn let out a short, loud laugh and clapped Harry on his back, who was almost hypnotized by the many layers of man's belly trembling. "Nothing to be ashamed of, my boy. Even the best of us fall sometimes."

"Ashamed?" Harry asked with a fake astonishment. "I'm mad because it hadn't happened sooner."

This time Eileen joined their laughter too, but Harry could tell it was forced. Slughorn, though, seemed convinced.

"Such a tongue," Slughorn said, and Harry wasn't sure what he was implying. "I always knew you'd get far."

Harry barely managed to notice a twitch of Eileen's eyebrow as he said that and noted it for the later inspection.

"And a few connections wouldn't hurt either," Slughorn continued, and waved his hand towards the crowd. "But luckily you're in the right place."

He laughed once again.

"Just so, Professor," she said with a sharp smile, and then added quietly, only for Harry to hear,

"It's time to dance, Potter."

They talked to quite a few people, and Harry met an Auror, a famous newspaper editor, a Quidditch star, and yet another Eileen's cousin. This once was from Germany. He tried to say appropriate things and laugh at appropriate times, but in reality, he found it all to be rather taxing.

More so because he was trying to avoid his mother.

Lily was pretty without even trying, and had that air about her that made her attractive and approachable, which worked like a charm, and she could often be seen surrounded by more than one wizard, all of them trying to lead the word of the conversation.

"Oh," he heard Eileen's surprised tone.

"What is it?"

"There's an unspeakable here," she said, her mouth slightly opened. "I think father knows him."

"Do you want to greet him?"

"I-Yes," she said and shifted from one foot to another. "But I'd like to do so on my own."

Harry bit his lip and looked at the man. He was tall, gaunt, and had the pale blue eyes that betrayed no emotions but were attentive and sharp.

"Sure," he said, and spotted Regulus near the table with refreshments. "I'll join your cousin then."

"Alright. I'll be with you in a moment."

Harry nodded and headed for the table, only to curse inwardly as he approached it; Lily seemed it was a good idea to join Regulus too.

Regulus eyed narrowed at her, but he said nothing and nodded politely to Harry.

"Hi," she said, seemingly not bothered by Regulus's lack of greeting. Harry didn't trust his voice so he just nodded at her.

"I was a bit overcrowded there," she said and her shoulders dropped. "Can I hide with you guys for a moment?"

"Potter and Black would seem comforting to you, I'd wager," Regulus said dryly and spared her but a glance as he took a sniff of something and decided it was not up to his tastes. "But I'll have you know we don't condone such behaviors."

It was a weird thing to say and it sounded almost like speech, but what threw Harry off was the implication of his identity. Between his looks and his surname, Harry had an easy time to place him as Sirius' brother, the one he had always refused to talk about.

Lily seemed taken back. "Well, me neither," she said and puffed her chest, and a Prefect badge shined at them. "And this year I can actually do something about it."

"Hmm." Regulus was not impressed. He turned towards Harry and offered him a glass full of red liquid. "Here. This is the only passable botch."

Harry took a sip of it, and hummed, as its sweet, but strong taste registered in his brain. "Not bad."

Lily closed her fists. "Are you two just going to ignore me?"

"A bit sweet for my tastes," Regulus continued and Harry couldn't help but start chuckling. "But it'll do," he finished, his mouth twitching too.

"Evans, is it?" Harry decided to take the mercy of a girl. That was the best way to think about her. Just a girl. Still, Regulus stood farther than would be polite.

"Yeah, but it's just Lily," she said. "Slughorn managed to get quite the lot this year, wouldn't you say?"

"It's my first time so I wouldn't know," Harry said.

"Well it is," she said firmly and nodded, more for herself. "I just met a wizard who's working with Squibs on this latest issue. He sounded certain of their success."

This did attract Regulus' attention. "McKinnon?" he asked.

Lily turned towards him and blinked. "Err, yes. I think so."

Regulus just nodded, but Harry saw him frowning when he turned his head away.

"Anyway, he told me there's another rally in November, and it'll be in Hogsmeade," she said, unable to conceal the excitement. "I hope it'll clash with our visits."

"And what do you think?" Harry said. "Do you support their pleas?"

"I think it's very nice of him to try and help them," she responded quickly. "I don't think many wizards bother with Squibs. Well, except Professor Dumbledore, of course."

Harry remained silent.

"And they _need_ a wizard to represent them if they want their voices heard in the ministry," she continued. "It's good that someone took the issue seriously. So yeah. I'd say I support them."

"Bold," Harry said, not wanting to give any opinion in front of Regulus. "It does sound like a dangerous position though."

Regulus nodded and said seriously, "People disappeared for less."

"What do you mean?" Lily asked, the sweet summer child.

"You didn't read papers during the summer, huh?" Regulus asked, a wrong sort of smile appearing on his young face. "There's an unrest among the higher-ups in the ministry."

"Oh? What happened?"

"Not what, but who," Harry said.

"A whisper," Regulus said softly, his smile never failing. "About a powerful dark wizard, one that could challenge Grindelwald. Perhaps even Dumbledore."

"No," Lily said and gaped, her eyes widened. "But the ministry will stop him, right? What's his name?"

Harry almost reflexively exchanged a long look with Regulus, and he knew they both knew the name, even though he had no idea where the younger boy could've heard it. It was certain none of them would utter it here too.

"They're saying people are flocking to him," Regulus continued. "Attracted to his power and ideas, and willing to do a great deal to earn a bit of it for themselves."

"Ministry's trying to mobilize, sure," Harry said and shrugged when Regulus' eyes found his own. "But what to do against the unknown threat? They've no idea who is the enemy and who is the friend and so the panic spreads."

It was all too much for Lily it seemed, and muttering something, she made her way back to McKinnon, with a last glance at the two of them once she was some distance away. Her familiar green eyes were wider than it was natural, and Harry felt a sting of sadness.

He hadn't imagined his first meeting with his mother to go like this.

Regulus and Harry remained in a heavy silence, each looking another with searching looks, but both betraying nothing.

"Well, this isn't awkward at all," Eileen said and broke them out of it. They both offered her equally dishonest smiles. "What got you so ruffled?"

"Politics," Harry said.

"A _new_ player at the stage," Regulus added, and Eileen narrowed eyes at him, but he just smirked.

"Anyway," she said as if she hadn't heard them. "Runcorn seems a bit lost without you, cousin."

"Right," he drawled, and he made a face as if he had tried a particularly foul dish.

"That fool!" she said quietly and furiously once Regulus got out of an earshot. "He's no idea what he is playing with. And he already knows too much."

Harry raised his eyebrow. "You're knowledgeable too," he guessed.

She gave him a dirty look. "I happen to follow worldwide news. The fellow the two of you've just discussed had left quite the trail across Europe. Even wider."

Harry remembered something he had heard once. "He traveled farther and delved deeper than any wizard before."

"And what would you know about that?"

Harry carefully thought about his response. "I hear whispers," he decided to emulate Regulus. "And I'm not the only one."

"And your thoughts about it?"

Harry shrugged and waved his hand. "We're safe at Hogwarts. Dumbledore's reputation is well earned." He grinned. "So we might as well use the time we've got left for some fun."

She raised an eyebrow, and Harry struggled to keep his eyes on her face. Somehow, the closeness of their bodies escaped him, and now it hit him with revenge. He smelled mint in her cold breath.

"Come on then," she said softly and grabbed his hand, leading him deeper into the crowd. "Let's have some fun."

And they did.

Harry got to talk to even more people, and it was a great deal different now that he wasn't the blasted boy-who-lived. The true meaning of the word freedom finally made sense to Harry as he couldn't care less who's looking at him and what they thought about him. There was a lack of constant staring and pointing that was unknown to Harry, but he found that he missed it as much as he did Malfoy.

No one expected him to do anything. No one batted his eye when he spilled a bit of his sweet wine. No one commented about the fact that he may be leaning closer to Eileen than it was strictly proper.

Most importantly, she didn't say a word.

* * *

It was much later when they found themselves in the emptiness of their common room, for some reason breathless and sweaty, which barely managed to ruin Eileen's light touch of makeup.

He noticed her red cheeks and expected his own to be about the same.

"That was something, huh?" he broke the silence.

She offered him a small smile she hid behind her hand. "Yeah. I haven't imagined having fun with a Potter on my hand."

He snorted. "Sod off, Rosier."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she said and grinned at him. They stood like that for a few seconds, just grinning stupidly at each other, before she took a step back, and covered herself with her arms, making her look even smaller than she was.

"Good night," she said and turned around, heading for her dorms.

He watched her go, and let himself fall into the closest armchair, and closed his eyes to enjoy the moment. He couldn't remember the last time he had so much fun.

A gentle cough startled him, and his eyes sprung open, his right hand randomly sending hex on its own, as he jumped on his feet, ready for more action.

But it was just Regulus, his eyes wide as he hid behind the bluish shield of magic.

"You already know the shield charm, huh?" Harry asked, and blinked so his eyes could better adjust to the faint light of the room. His wand remained in his hand.

"Please," he said and scowled. "Every wizard worth his name can cast it the moment they step in Hogwarts. "What was that hex? It packed quite the punch."

"Just a reflex," Harry said and shrugged. "It would blast you away a few feet if it were to hit you. Nothing more."

Regulus nodded. "Just enough to give you a few seconds to assess the threat," he said and whistled. "Quite the reaction. I didn't take you as a dueling type."

Harry sighed. "I'm what I need to be."

"I can respect that," Regulus said and did a small bow, as if in recognition of someone's skill. "Every decent wizard should know how to defend himself properly. Only fools rely on Aurors."

"Both defend and attack, yeah," Harry said, and Regulus smiled. "So are you going to tell me why are you stalking me, or?"

His smile died. "Just wanted to ensure we are on the same page about _some_ happenings," he said, in the voice that suggested everything and nothing.

"And when did the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black start to care about the thoughts of mere Potter," Harry drawled, like Purebloods liked to.

Regulus' collected and calm mask broke, and Harry instantly became aware of a too visible vein on his forehead. "Because, a _mere Potter_ has no business knowing anything, and I-" He stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing and his lips forming a thin line. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but I'll be keeping an eye on you."

"Duly noted," Harry said in a bored tone and smirked as Regulus clenched his fists, but it was no true expression of his feelings. Harry had heard enough from Sirius' letters about Black family and deranger members it produced to be worried.

They look at each other for a long moment in the darkness of the room, and Harry's hand never let the wand go.

But Regulus let his breath out and smiled pleasantly, and he wiggled his empty fingers. "I hear your cousin is about to invite you to live with them."

Harry blinked. He knew nothing of it, and briefly wondered where the heck Regulus got his information from, but he trusted his words to be true.

"What of it?" he asked, more harshly than he intended to.

"Since you threw yourself with Rosier's lot, It'd be better if you were to refuse such an accommodation." Regulus sounded too smug to Harry's tastes but the advice wasn't without its own merits.

"I wasn't planning to, if you must know."

"Of course you weren't," Regulus said and scowled. "I may not like it, but you're Slytherin. You have more senses than that. But I'll still warn you, out of respect for our noble house. You've been taken note of by many, and not many of them are as gentle as Rosier and his little band of baboons."

"I lost you Regulus, and to be honest, I've no idea what you are trying to accomplish here," Harry said. "If you're trying to leave an impression, you've done a poor job out of it." Harry took a step forward, looking the younger boy in the eyes. "I don't like bullies and I don't care for the threats." He took another step closer. "And I've dealt with much worse than Black with a misplaced sense of grandeur." His voice became soft. "So here's what you'll do. You'll leave me the fuck alone and I'll return the favor."

Regulus took a step back with an ugly mix of sneer and smirk on his face. It looked as if it were painful for him to let it go unpunished, but like he would tolerate it this one time. Harry knew it would be different the next time, and the boys' eyes promised there _will_ be the next time.

"Alright," he said at last, and took another step back. "We'll do so." His eyes lingered on Harry for another second before he shook his head, and turned on his heel. Without any word, he disappeared in the blackness of the room, and Harry let out a breath, a small frown on his face.

Even though Regulus had said nothing of the importance, it still was an informative conversation. It seemed Harry's blunder in character left a bigger impression on his fellow Slytherins than he thought it would. It seemed they took him as a valid player, to be noticed and observed, but what game they were playing, Harry wasn't sure of.

He'll have to blend in, and walk low for the time being.

* * *

He was exhausted when he finally entered his dorms, and to his relief, all of the other boys were deeply asleep, with only an occasional snore, destroying otherwise perfect silence.

He sat on his bad, and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the light pulses of headache that spread through his whole forehead. It would be a lie to say it was the sweet wine behind it, but Harry thought that was all he had done on that day; He just kept lying to himself.

But another thought crept in his mind before he could make it go away, and it became firmer and firmer, and once he lied down and prepared for sleep, it continued to haunt him deep into the night.

 _You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness,_ the hat had said.


	3. Danger of Routines

The start of classes happened, and it served as a sort of pinpoint to Harry. So far, he treated his situation as an adventure that will surely come to its end, but loads of homework did a reality check on him, and he was haunted by a single thought.

_I'm stuck here._

It was nothing new, but until this point he just didn't think it out properly and just swung with it, waiting for the miracle to happen. A miracle that was not coming.

Slytherin house, once Harry had seen it in its full capacity, was nothing like what he was used to when he was Gryffindor. It was mostly quiet, with its group firmly established and with little to no contact between them, and each one of them seemed like it knew something the rest didn't.

While its students showed a great deal of unity in the long halls of Hogwarts, the notion didn't extend to the privacy of their common room. There was a plethora of different political views, mixed with prejudice and economical status, and it created a constant Harry did not like. There was tension in the air that threatened to break into something more with each passing hour.

And as if that wasn't enough, the school as a whole drew the battle lines that made Harry's neck hair straight with its intensity. The numbers of owls increased with every day, and a few students had even been pulled out of the school due to some strange reason no one understood.

But they all knew the real reason. At least Slytherins knew.

Mulciber and Wilkes insisted they sit with him in the classes, and he mostly caved in, as appearances were that much relevant to his classmates. Still, though, he managed to sit with Eileen on potions and transfiguration.

His meals he spent with Evan, as the bigger guy seemed determined to quiz Harry on just about every political issue possible, before they did anything else.

He continued to avoid his parents.

But it wasn't enough for him to pass under the radar of the keen eyes of the school population. Wilkes and Mulciber often walked with him, each at one side, and it was enough for others to already form their opinions about him.

He didn't know much about the reputation they had, but he had heard whispers about Avery, and everyone knew they were friends so it was only natural to place them all in the same basket.

Before Harry realized, November reared its ugly head, and Harry was officially part of the group, even if the club thing hadn't started yet.

"What happened to that girl?" Harry asked Mulciber as they headed for the Great Hall. It was lunchtime.

"That mudblood?" he asked and Harry glanced in her direction once again; half of her face was heavily bandaged, and the other part was bluer than it had any right to be. "Avery caught her alone the other day, poor girl."

Harry did not acknowledge the amusement he heard in Mulciber's voice.

"It's Mary something, right?"

"Macdonald," Mulciber said. "She's not a bad witch considering, well. Not bad on eyes either."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "So what's Avery's problem with her?"

Mulciber snickered. "Oh, he's no problem with her, but mudbloods are always convenient for his little experiments," he said and bit his upper lip. "He can't help himself sometimes," he added quietly.

"What do you mean?"

Mulciber glanced at Harry, and he was surprised to see a sparkle of worry in the taller boy's eyes. "Magic, at least some of it, can change a wizard. And his father isn't alright in the head, so he had him doing all sorts of things ever since he'd got his wand. Grooming him to become useful, I'd heard him say once."

"Oh?" Harry said and tried to keep his voice even, but it was hard to hide his disturbance.

"Yeah," Mulciber said and Harry heard in his voice that he guessed his own thoughts. "He sleeps less and less, and even the food isn't much to him. When it gets too bad Rosier keeps him under Imperius."

Harry gaped before he could realize what he was doing, and they stopped, just in front of the Great Hall. Mulciber waited until they were alone.

"Breathe a word of it to someone, and I just might let it slip that you're good to go to Avery," he whispered, standing much closer to Harry than he would've preferred.

Harry hurried to nod. "I won't," he said. "Avery is alright."

Mulciber looked at him for another moment, and then he too nodded. "He's my friend," he said simply, and tilted his head to the side. "He has watched over me since forever, and now it's time for me to repay that debt. He's like a brother I've never had."

Harry nodded again. He could understand that. Respect, even.

"Let's eat, shall we?" Harry said instead and put his hand on Mulcibers back.

The other guy blinked, as if he had forgotten himself, or got lost in the moment. He quickly shifted his mouth in a mocking, cruel grin he preferred to wear in the Great Hall and said, "Yeah, Evan's waiting for us. Time to discuss our… What did he call it? Ah, yes. It's time to discuss our _little_ club."

They entered and took their usual places around Evan, but there was no food there just yet. Harry exchanged the look with Eileen who was sitting a few places down the table, and she just shrugged at him, before shifting her attention back to the professors' table.

Harry looked too, and saw a new face amongst them, the one he barely recognized; it was a much younger, but equally grim face of Barty Crouch. He seemed to be staring at someone at Ravenclaw's table and Harry was quick to find the source of it, a rather normal looking boy, short and skinny, with the dead eyes that betray nothing. He was doing everything, but returning Crouch's searching look, and it made Harry realize the identity of him.

It was also Barty Crouch.

Dumbledore stood up, and everyone quieted down, as it was usual when his presence fulfilled the room.

"A moment of your time before we serve lunch, if you please," he started, his voice gentle but powerful. "We have a guest today from the ministry." He spread one hand in Crouch Senior's direction. "Bartemius Crouch, from the DMLE, is here today to brief us on new security measures and protocols the ministry believes will help us in these times, where the Dark seeks to take away everything we hold dear. I urge you all to listen carefully and take his words to the heart."

He kept standing for another moment and seemed to make eye contact with every single student before he sat down and nodded at Crouch who took the podium. He roughly cleared his throat.

"Some may think that it's better to leave you in the dark about the most recent happenings, but our esteemed minister, Harold Minchum, trusts your nerves, and believes that it's in your best interest to be properly armed in these uncertain times."

He took a sip of water, making a rather clever pause to let that sink in.

"Even though your ministry remains strong, and ever with its people's well-being firmly in mind, criminal activity is at raise, and we need every civilian, no matter the age, to be at his guard."

He took a piece of paper from his pocket.

"This means the following: All sightings of an unknown symbol or rune that has a snake, skull, or letter _S_ as a part of it, is to be reported immediately, either to your head of the house or ministry personnel. All mentionings of the words Lord, Master, Dark Lord, or Voldemort are to be reported immediately. The same goes for any sight or suspicious mentioning of rogue Dementors, Werewolves, Giants, and wizards or witches in full sets of black robes with matching masks. If you're approached by such a figure, you're to report yourselves for a full check-up for poisons and dark magic and notify the ministry of it. If possible, do not engage in any sort of communication with them."

"Concerning your time here, the protections Hogwarts enjoys are the strongest in the country, but for your own safety, you should remain within its walls most of your time here, especially the nights. Hogsmeade visits are still permitted, and be assured, Aurors and other ministry personnel will be closely looking after you for the time you spend there. Believe in the ministry, and each other, and we'll all together overcome this crisis and put those criminals where they belong; behind the bars of Azkaban." He curtly inclined his head. "Thank you for your time."

Dumbledore rose again. "Thank you for your words of assurance, Bartemius. Would you be joining us for lunch?"

Harry smiled as he heard it. It was little things like this that made Dumbledore a great man, rather than his power.

"No, no," Crouch quickly said. "There's more to be done, as you well know."

"Of course," Dumbledore said. "I'll be more than happy to answer students' questions if you're in a hurry."

In the second, Crouch's face became thrice as tired, and Harry saw many worried, grim lines all over his face, and understood the man's premature aging. "Yes, thank you, Dumbledore. I'll keep in touch."

And with that, he left.

There were no questions and the silence that followed was deeper, more profound than any Harry experienced before, but the students were quick to brush it off, and the muttering along all tables started, slowly at first, and louder with each second.

The food appeared in front of them, and Evan attacked it with gusto, a small smile dancing on his face.

"So it begins," he said and put a whole fork of beef into his mouth.

"Mulciber mentioned the club earlier," Harry said conversationally.

Evan continued to eat in silence.

"We had to put some charms over the empty classroom we've found. And father told me to lay low for a while," Avery said, and for the first time, Harry noticed dark circles under his eyes, a slight tremor of his hand, and something in his eyes he couldn't decipher.

"It took Wilkes almost a month to work the protections out," Mulciber said and smirked at Wilkes who just frowned.

"Nevertheless, he'd done it," Avery said, eyeing Mulciber with narrowed eyes. "And what have you done?"

They played like this sometimes, Harry knew, but the real meaning behind it still evaded him.

Mulciber shrugged. "This and that," he said, which just seemed to annoy Avery. "So when shall we check it out? You know, duel a bit, curse something, see if Potter's any good in magic."

"I'm actually curious about that too," Evan interjected. "Friday after classes will do." He glanced at Wilkes. "Make sure Potter's there, will you?"

Wilkes nodded.

"That's settled then," Evan said, nodded for himself, and stood up. "Let's go Avery."

"Are we?" Avery started.

"Yes," Evan quickly said. "You too Mulciber."

Harry now remained alone with Wilkes, perhaps for the first time, and the boy continued to eat quickly, occasionally glancing at some random student.

"Would you mind a few questions?" Harry asked.

Wilkes raised an eyebrow.

"Do you guys hang out with Black? Or Snape?"

"Snape's Malfoy's friend," he said as if it explained everything, not looking at Harry who had the sudden urge to clap more words out of his mouth.

"And Black?"

Wilkes shrugged.

"Isn't he too, err, part of the similar mindset?" Harry insisted.

Wilkes finally met his eyes, no emotion on his face. "Black is narrow-minded, with only the final goal on his mind. He doesn't care about the casualties, or about broken families left behind, as long as it gets him where he wants to be. All Blacks are alike."

"Oh," Harry said, and blinked stupidly, thinking if the same was true about Sirius. He remembered his third year and all random, dangerous, and short-minded things Sirius had done.

"The same could be said about Lord Voldemort," Harry said, and took a risk.

Wilkes winced, his eyes still on Harry. "It could," he agreed, his voice very low, and a kind of silent warning in his eyes. Even fear. "But you may not live long enough to say it twice."

Wilkes did not say another word.

Harry took his words to the heart.

* * *

The spell hit him before he could react; Harry was yanked by his feet, and flew in the air, upside down, just high enough to make him uncomfortable.

"Lo there, cousin." Harry saw his father's face at the end of the hall, a sort of satisfied smirk on his way too similar features. The rest of the band looked similarly amused; Sirius openly laughed, Pettigrew snickered and Lupin looked somewhere between worried and pleased. _Pricks._

"James," Harry managed to say. "Nice to see you too."

He took the wand out, and countered the spell, painfully landing down; he was just in time to see Lupin wincing. The crack that followed his fall was not a sound Harry liked to hear but was more than used to. He stood up and cleaned his robes with a flick of his wand.

"We could land you more safely," Lupin said and Harry sent him a dirty look.

"You could not hex me too, but that's not the way you do things," he said and looked at James, swallowing emotions, and stuck somewhere between love and loathing. "So what's up?"

James' smirk lessened a bit. "My parents send their love," he said. "And asked me to pass a message." he did a careless jab with a wand, and the letter made its way to Harry's hands.

"That's it?"

"No, actually," James said, his voice a tad colder, and Sirius adopted a more serious face too. The other two seemed more wary than anything. "I'm pretty sure my parents are inviting you to stay over, now that, well, you've no other place to stay, and I wanted to make sure it's the right decision."

"Why wouldn't it be? We are family."

"Family isn't always what it seems to be," Sirius said, his body tense and his fists clenched.

"And we've seen you with you Mulciber and Avery," James said. "They are not the kind of people you'd like to be around." He played with his wand as he spoke.

Harry's own was in his hand too.

Pettigrew's brow became sweaty.

"Well, you'll be delighted to hear that I've already made plans then," Harry said pleasantly and took a step back. But the four were not done yet.

"What?" James said. "You don't want to live with us? But you're Potter." His face became reddish, and his voice loud.

Harry just shrugged. "Already made plans. I don't want to impose. Especially if you have a problem with my choice of friends."

"Potter, you must've seen what Avery had done to Mary!" Sirius added. "They're foul, a lot of them!"

"I never noticed," Harry said, and appeared as if deep in thought. "Funny, they'd never hexed me in my back either."

Lupin had enough tact to look guilty, but the memo passed right next to James and Sirius.

"They're just jokes," Sirius said. "But what Avery used is Dark magic. It's people like him who are doing the killings Crouch talked about earlier."

"You don't know that," Harry said pointedly.

Sirius scoffed. "Of course there's no evidence, but everyone with the brain can take one look at Avery, and know everything he's about. It's no secret."

James' face paled to its normal color, and he shook his head. "You're mad if you think Dumbledore and ministry won't stop them," he said, disbelief heavy in his voice, and then his eyes widened. "You don't actually think about…"

Others too caught up, and their faces shifted from wary to shocked.

"I thought you were alright Potter," Sirius said. "I thought you were one of us."

Harry opened his mouth, but Wilkes chose that moment to appear from nowhere, wand already in his hand, and his steps slow, deliberate. His eyes went to James' wand, shifted to Harry's, and then back to James'.

Without a word, he made a complicated pattern of his wand, all while muttering something, and the paper plane surged from the tip of it and disappeared behind the corner.

"What are you doing here, Wilkes?" Lupin asked, not sure whether to look at Harry or Wilkes so he adopted a stance that allowed him to do a bit of both.

"Professor Slughorn is looking for him," he said, his voice even. "Sent me to fetch him, didn't he?"

"He'll come later," James said loudly. "We are talking now."

Harry noticed Lupin wasn't overly sold on the idea, but he knew the guy won't say anything.

"I think we are done talking," he said instead and turned towards Wilkes. "Let's go."

"You won't be going anywhere!" James said, a few red sparks escaping the tip of his wand. "So is it true then? Have you thrown yourself with _them?_ "

"And what if he had?" Another voice added. Harry was starting to become annoyed with all the newcomers, but some of the Gryffindors' bravery disappeared when their eyes caught the giant shadow Evan's body produced in a dimly lit hallway.

"What are the four of you going to do about it?" His voice was sharp and full of mockery. "A blood traitor, a coward, a," He just looked disgusted when he eyed Lupin, whose shoulders dropped when they made eye contact. "And Potter, too, enamored with his own non-existing grandeur. Between the four of you, there is enough material to make one proper wizard, and even him would be lacking."

He did a short, cruel laugh.

It proved to be too much for Sirius and his face, trembling in emotion, twisted even further. He said no words as he pointed the wand at Rosier and the curse left its tip, vibrating with magic and malice.

The other three Gryffindors raised their wands too when Rosier blocked the curse with an annoyed wave. His smile died on his lips.

"Do you really want to do this?" he asked and tilted his head to the side. "Because I already know how it ends."

Sirius was ready to go, Harry knew, but James put a hand on his shoulder, and whispered something to him, and then added louder, "We're done here." He looked at Harry. "This is answer enough."

Harry could keep his face straight the whole day long, but there was nothing he could do about the feeling he had in his stomach when he saw repulsion on his father's face. He almost fell on his knees once they left, but a strong hand caught him on time.

"Come on Potter," Wilkes said gently. "We need to go. Evan's already gone and they might return."

Harry looked at him and opened his mouth, but no words followed.

"It's alright," Wilkes said again. "I understand."

Harry thought it highly unlikely, but was comforted nonetheless as he allowed Wilkes to drag him back to the dungeons, and heal his broken hand and few bruises. Once he was done, they were alone in the dorms, in silence, and Harry looked at the other boy and frowned.

"What were you doing there anyway?"

"Evan told me to make sure you'll be there tomorrow."

"So you're just following me around?"

Wilkes shrugged. "You can't be there tomorrow if they curse you today, and you have to spend a weekend at the hospital wing."

Harry watched him in disbelief.

"Don't you have anything better to do?"

Another shrug.

"You, Wilkes, are a weird bastard if I ever saw one," Harry said at last and lied down on his bed. Wilkes didn't answer but Harry was sure he smiled a little at the end.

* * *

Wilkes kept to his word and led Harry to the classroom they've prepared for their extracurricular activities. The two of them stopped in front of him, and Harry was able to see magic shimmering at the edges of charms, and could feel a faint presence of magic; protective and strong.

He crouched and poked at the barrier with his wand, humming once it was violently jerked back.

"You did these?"

"Yes," Wilkes said. "Don't touch it though."

Harry, inspecting it, figured he wouldn't even notice them if Wilkes hadn't pointed it out.

"You've masked it from sight, right?"

"Smell and taste too," Wilkes said. "Physical block, and charms to make your brain fuzzy."

"Oh? Is that why I have this feeling I've got to be somewhere else?"

"Probably," he shrugged. "I wasn't sure how good it was."

"And if someone tries to force their way through?"

Wilkes winced. "Not entirely sure. I've borrowed some books from Avery, and mixed a bit of Evan's blood in. The charm's supposed to warn a trespasser, but I couldn't really figure out what the warning was. Pain, most likely."

Harry turned to face the other boy. "You like this kind of magic, huh?"

He shrugged. "I'm more into curse-breaking, but it's basically the same thing."

Harry gave him an appraising look and said quietly, "But it's not going to be, is it?"

"You really ought to be more careful about what you say," he responded softly.

Harry shrugged. "So how do we enter?"

"That's the thing," Wilkes said with a hint of pride in his voice. "I got the idea from _Fidelius_ charm, you see. As long as you think about it as _our_ classroom, you can just pass through it."

And indeed, he walked through the barrier as if it hadn't existed. Harry whistled, and followed him inside.

It was a simple room, with little furniture. Evan, Mulciber, and Avery sat around the single remaining desk, and two empty chairs were empty next to them.

Harry and Wilkes sat down.

"Any troubles after yesterday?" Evan asked, looking at Wilkes, who just shook his head. "Good. Avery got Pettigrew this afternoon anyway. To be sure."

Harry's eyes snapped towards the big guy. "Why?"

Evan gave him a long look, his lips a thin line. "You're one of us now, right? We look after each other."

"But Pettigrew did nothing to me!" Harry snapped in a defense of the traitor, even him not understanding why.

"Potter." Evan put a hand on his shoulder, and it felt heavy resting there. "Harry." He took a deep breath. "I know you have a big heart." Mulciber snickered. "But it's not time for noble deeds. You've heard Crouch. We're at war."

Harry understood it. He had heard Arthur and Sirius talking about how it was and knew many never saw the end of Voldemort's terror, but he had never entertained the thought of how young they were when it all started.

So he nodded, and put on a grim face, and said, "You've mentioned the similar thing more than once now, and yet when I ask you about it you deflect."

Harry made a pause and made eye contact with them all, a heavy silence filling the room.

"I know that you know more, and you know that I know some, but I think we've been dancing around each other enough, don't you think?"

"That's because," Evan started slowly, "You've no idea what you want. We ought to be careful if we don't know you are to be trusted."

Harry knew what he wanted, clear as day, but he couldn't just say it.

"I want this world to be what I expected when I first entered Diagon alley," he said instead.

"And what did you expect?" Avery asked when Evan remained silent.

"Magic," Harry said. "I expected to be in awe and fear, and to feel great respect for the wizards and their power."

"Mhm," Evan said, his voice even. "That's the next step, sure."

"And what's the first step?"

Evan sighed. "To preserve what we already have. Tell you what, bear with us for one more month, and I'll tell father to invite you over for Yule. Can you do that?"

Harry was not sure how he felt about the prospect of mingling with Death Eaters, but it was the path he had chosen here, and with every such event, he might be a step closer to Voldemort.

Once he met him though, he had no idea what to do, but he knew what he wanted more than anything, even if he denied his thoughts. _To survive._

Hadn't he done enough?

"Alright," he said.

"Excellent," Evan said and Avery clapped his back, making him twitch because of the sudden contact, but he took it in good humor and they all laughed, making the tension die.

"Good lad," Avery said once they quieted down. "Let's do some magic then."

And they did.

Harry just observed at first and he had to admit that they were quite some wizards, even if he had to wince at some of their spells. Evan particularly was terrifying with his wand to the extent that the whole room seemed to breathe with magic once he would start with casting; shadows prolonged, lights flickered, and the air became heavier.

Avery was more of a brute; shields shattered under his constant spellfire, countercurses failed and charms could not affect anything his magic had already touched. He never stopped casting, and never quitted, as long he had a wand in his hands.

Mulciber was quick as a snake, and preferred simple, but painful spells, and wasn't bothered by the pain as much. He would let simpler spells hit him, to hurt his opposition more severely. A strange tactic if Harry ever saw one, but it worked to an extent, so he wisely kept his mouth shut when the boy had to be healed after a duel for a good chunk of time.

Wilkes was the worst by far, but had a better grasp at magic, and made use of obscure spells, some of which Harry had never heard of before, and often used complicated magic to do strange, but brutal effects. Even Evan's eyes would look wary when he started to wave his wand in complex patterns.

But when Evan paired Harry for the first time, with Wilkes, he'd made enough observations to understand their styles better, and he was quick to find the holes, lacking in them. He fought Basilisk, Dementors, and Voldemort himself and he was the most stubborn bastard in the room.

If he is to make his way up in Slytherin room, he is to leave an impression, and Harry had put a great deal of his time in the past few months to hone his skills in what he believed was a great change.

So he kept Wilkes under constant pressure and never allowed him to use his best magic. He used simple, but strong spells in short cycles; trying to disarm, fancy explosion to put him off his footing, a quick succession of stunners and banishers. It took him less than five minutes to finish the duel, and he felt strangely pleased when he heard Avery's whistle.

Evan's face remained expressionless, and he just said, "Mulciber, you're next."

His confident smirk quickly became a frown when he realized Harry's stinging hexes that he let hit him were more than they appeared. HArry, through great effort, added an extra jab to the wand motion, and now they left large, greenish bruises behind, some of which even bled. Harry's own confidence somewhat wavered when the nasty cuz on his forehead started to blind him, but he was far from done. Mulciber too proved to be far too stubborn for his good, and Evan had to stop him once he became pale and insecure on his legs, bloody all over and light in his eyes gone. He had to feed him some potions too.

In the end, Harry and Avery beat the shit out of each other for fifteen minutes straight, before they found themselves on their backs, panting for air, and unable to move.

All in all, Harry thought their first meeting went better than he'd hoped for.

* * *

There was little Harry could do about the half-healed bruises that adorned his face before he entered the common room, so instead, he braced himself and hoped the others wouldn't mind him little, if any at all.

It happened to be a poor hope.

Snape's eyes were quick to dance between him and Evan, only to narrow in conclusion of it. Regulus, surrounded by the band of the older students that usually accompanied him, was smirking in that knowing way of his and raised an eyebrow when he made eye contact with Harry. Eileen's roommates were quick to exchange glances from which Harry knew they would be discussing it later.

Eileen herself made her way towards the armchair he chose to sit in and stopped in front of him, her arms crossed on her chest.

"I knew you'd get yourself into trouble," she said.

He carelessly waved his hand, and winced in pain when she punched him in his shoulder, and raised her eyebrow when he rubbed the place.

"Was it your cousin?" she asked.

"Probably," he said and grinned. "But I'll have to check though."

"Evan?" she asked.

"Avery," he said. "It was a friendly duel."

"Right," she said and narrowed her eyes, but Harry was done being interrogated. He was in high spirits and adrenaline still failed to let him go.

"Would you like to go to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" he asked instead and grinned when her eyebrows threatened to leave her face with how high they rose.

She stood silent for a second and then frowned. "I'm a bit behind with my homework. I hoped to catch up this weekend," she said and bit her lip, looking down.

"I'm done with everything," Harry said. "I could help you."

She looked up and smiled. "I'd like that," she said. "If you're done playing buddies with my brother."

Harry ignored that. "So Hogsmeade tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I'd like that."


	4. Green Snake

The sun wasn't yet completely risen when Harry had already found his way to the room Wilkes had shown him the day before. He was surrounded by books, and his face was accompanied by a frown more often than not.

His book about time provided little to no explanation, and it just confirmed what he already knew; tough it up, and live on.

Other books he had snatched from the library, however, proved to give him some more insight into what he was becoming part of. _The Burden of Magic_ , for example, outrightly stated that history proved that stronger species survived and adapted, while the _lesser_ ones perished.

Another lovely book named _Magic is Might_ openly invited wizards and witches to stop hiding and to build magical settlements _worthy_ of magic. It continued to depict a rather optimistic version of magical utopia, using many not so subtle promptings like _cleansing_ and _establishing a natural order_.

The author went so far as to include his illustrations to it, and Harry snorted as the animated picture of a house-elf polished wizard's boot that was conveniently at the proper height for the creature to do so only because there was a second house-elf under it.

Harry hummed and briefly wondered why Dumbledore allowed such books in his school's library when a grunt startled him.

"A bit of light reading, huh?" Wilkes' gentle voice reached Harry.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked as Wilkes studied the titles of the books. "I didn't peg you to be a morning type."

Wilkes took a seat across Harry, and fished his book from his backpack, opening it somewhere around the middle.

"Are you just going to ignore me?" Harry asked, and raised an eyebrow, but unable to conceal a small smile.

"No," Wilkes said. "We just had the same idea, I think."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "A weird coincidence," he said flatly, and Wilkes shrugged.

"Have you read these books?" Harry decided to change the topic, and tapped the top of the pile of books he had made.

"Yes," he said, not even bothering to look up.

"And?"

"And what?"

Harry sighed, and shook his head, already feeling the start of yet another headache. "What do you think about the topics so thoroughly depicted in these books?"

Wilkes frowned. "Cockroaches and Goblins are supposed to live underground. Our kind ought to be better off," he said in a bored, even tone, and returned to his book.

Harry studied him for another moment but Wilkes was as ordinary-looking as always. There was not a single hair out of its place, nor any clenched muscle.

"Fair, I guess," he said at last, and faked a sigh. "You just do what you're told to. They don't expect you to do _any_ thinking."

Wilkes' eyes stopped to move along the lines of the book, and he hummed. "They expect nothing of me, but to be who I am." He frowned and looked up. "We're friends, you know?"

"Yeah," Harry said softly and winced. "Sorry."

"Perhaps," Wilkes said, and took out a piece of parchment, and just like the last time, he quickly scribbled something down and charmed it to fly away.

"What's that?"

Wilkes blinked. "A memo. It's how ministry personnel communicate. They used to use owls, but, well…"

Harry nodded. "Sounds messy," he said and shifted in his seat. "Teach me?"

Wilkes smiled, took his wand out, and his eyes, usually timid and dead, lit up with a sudden sparkle.

* * *

Avery and Evan decided to surround Harry during the breakfast, and between their much bigger bodies, he felt smaller than ever. It was only because of it, that he ate a double portion of what he usually did; though it still accounted for one normal, healthy breakfast.

The duo was polite enough to wait for him to finish before they started with their madness, or whatever was on the daily schedule of oh so secretive Slytherins.

The thought made him smile, and if he felt a little guilty because he enjoyed their company, well, it was a small price to pay.

Their banter was a familiar one, and just like Ron and Hermione used to, they left him out of it, and he listened with only one ear something about clothes, and which one was finer.

"You wanted to talk about something," Harry interrupted them once he wiped his mouth, and used a quick charm to take care of his breath.

"Aye," Avery said, a wicked grin on his face, and he looked far more amused than he had any right to be. "Rosier here is on his older, protective brother duty again."

Harry groaned.

"Davis told me you've invited Eileen to Hogsmeade," Evan said, and shifted close enough to Harry for their elbows to rub each other.

"I didn't know you two are friendly," Harry said.

"We are not," Evan replied, annoyance clear on his face. "But he's a decent wizard and his mother owes our family a great deal."

He was about to continue, but Harry said hastily, "I needed a break, and we had a nice time at Slughorn's dinner, and that's it. We're just friends."

"Oh, here it comes," Avery said, and rubbed his hands like a second-rate villain.

Evan opened his mouth, but another voice spoke first. "Morning lads," Regulus said pleasantly, and sat on the opposite bench, two ghoul-alike Slytherins accompanying him; one at each side of him.

Harry mentally labeled them as Crabbe and Goyle.

"Morning." Evan nodded at him, but there was nothing friendly about his expression.

"I'm quite looking forward to Hogsmeade," Regulus said conversationally. "You know, being my first time, something interesting is _bound_ to happen."

"Oh?" Evan faked polite confusion, and Harry would think it genuine hadn't he met Evan properly in the last few months. "It's just a couple of good ol' shops, really."

"And a whole lot of Squibs," almost-Crabbe said.

"Led by that blood traitor McKinnon," almost-Goyle added, but both quieted when Regulus chuckled.

"I can't think of higher entertainment than that of a bunch of useless offsprings crying about their lack of magic," Regulus said and grinned.

"What do you want, Black?" Avery asked bluntly, and leaned forward. One of Regulus' goonies copied the movement. "Either tell us, or fuck off."

"No need to be crude, guys," Regulus said, and his smile faltered a little. "I just wanted to pass father's _greetings._ "

Harry wanted to snort, but the sudden stiffness he noticed by both Avery and Evan made him reconsider. Instead, he looked at Regulus, but his handsome face was once again projecting his normal, pleasant smile.

"Black," Avery said, a hint of warning in his voice.

"It's alright," Evan said and gave Avery such a look that made the temperature of the room a few degrees colder. "He's actually being serious." His mouth twitched when a vein popped out on Regulus' forehead.

Regulus opened his mouth, but no voice came out. He narrowed his eyes, stared at Evan for a few long seconds, and then breathed out. "We'll be off, then. Lots to see, right? Lots to do too, heh."

The deranged look in the boy's eyes and the lack of sanity made Harry shiver.

"Fuckin' Black," Avery said and turned to Evan. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," Evan said as if it was painful for him to admit it.

"You think it's genuine?"

"It must be." Evan pushed his plate away, but miscalculated the strength, and it made its way all over the table, and was about to fall when Harry caught it with _Wingardium Leviosa._

"What is this all about?" Harry asked.

Evan took a moment for himself, and his eyes practically danced with all the gears moving behind them.

"Harry, you'll go with Eileen as you planned, but you'll keep a close eye on her, understood?"

Harry quickly nodded as he recognized the voice he used. Usually, when Harry had heard that tone, someone would end up hurt the next day, and Avery and Mulciber would lay low for a week.

Once satisfied, Evan stood up, and said," Let's go, Avery."

"What's that all about?" Harry asked again, but there was no one left to answer him.

* * *

"So, where do you want to go first?" Harry asked Eillen as they exited the carriage that was pulled by ghastly, but gentle creatures Harry had never seen before, and he stole another glance at her.

It was little to say that he was surprised to see her in all-muggle attire; she wore a sweater that was glued to her thin frame, and a pair of trousers of a similar style Harry remembered Dudley tried to get into but never fitted.

"I don't have anything to buy. You?"

"No, I'm good," he said and saw her crossing her arms, slightly shaking. "Butterbeer at Three Broomsticks, then. It ought to be warm there."

"No," she said quietly, her lips trembling. "I'm not up for the crowd."

Harry saw the purple and pink monstrosity he knew people liked to visit when bringing a girl, and the sheer look at it made him gag. "Hog's Head it is."

She gave him an odd look but said nothing.

They quickly found it, and she immediately headed for the bar, and let out a satisfied breath out when she sat at the tall, dusty bar chair, which in return made the old barmen even more grumpy than he already was.

Harry understood the choice as there was a giant, old fireplace only a few feet away, black and burned from the years of usage.

"Two butterbeer," he said when the barman came closer.

"And two little ones," she added, and showed the barmen two fingers, connected and horizontally.

He raised an eyebrow but nodded with a grunt after a moment.

"My, my," Harry said and shook his head. "And you call yourself a lady?"

"Others do," she replied and slightly raised her chin. "As they should."

He caught her eyes and they both giggled, just as the barman returned.

Apparently, Eileen intended to mix a hot, disgusting alcoholic drink with a butterbeer and drink it like that.

He tried it, and suppressed the reflex that threatened to empty his whole stomach right then and there.

"How the fuck can you drink this?"

She shrugged. "It gets better after a while," she said and took a long gulp that she finished with the sound she made with her lips.

They shared another laugh.

"Evan told me you're coming over for Yule," she suddenly said, her voice sounding wrong and her face abnormally blank, as if she was posing for the painting.

"Yeah. So?"

"Nothing," she said too quickly. "I just didn't expect you to accept, you know?"

Harry sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. "Me neither," he said honestly. "But I had reasons."

"What reasons?" she asked, a bit loud.

Harry took a moment to think about his response.

"I'm the last of my family," he said. "Potter of a Potter that married Black." He knew nothing of it, but it sounded good in his mind. "My cousin hates me because I'm Slytherin, and the rest of the school is about to follow his opinion with all stuff going around."

"And you don't want to be alone?" she said quietly, and he heard something more in her voice.

It was more complicated than that, but Harry couldn't trust no one that much. Not Dumbledore and certainly not his new Slytherin pals. There were only two people in the world he would consider, and both of them were decades away, not even in the plan.

So he nodded, took another sip, and said, "Yeah. I have to find a place for myself in this world."

Of course, she couldn't possibly understand what he had meant, but saying little things like that helped Harry to cope. He was beginning to understand that he was completely, utterly lost, but in his mind there was only one thing he could do. Wait for Voldemort to banish himself, and in the following ten years window finish the wraith left behind, as Dumbledore should've done the first time around. Only then, Harry can hope to match the older, more experienced and scarily powerful wizard.

"Err, is something wrong?" She interrupted his flow of thoughts, and he blinked at her, barely recognizing her. "You looked...sad."

"I am." He sighed. "I'm not fully here. I hate it that it is expected of me to choose a side, and I hate people getting hurt because we can't sit down, talk, and settle it like normal men. I hate it all."

He winced when he caught the barman's raised eyebrows and said nothing more.

But Eileen gave him a watery sort of smile, her eyes bright, and said, "I get it. I feel like that sometimes too." But then she became serious. "That's why I'm surprised you want to meet father, and his friends. They're not exactly…"

"I know what they are," Harry said through his teeth. "But I also know that Evan, Wilkes, Avery, and Mulciber aren't _that_."

Her eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"

"I can't take other people's word about them, or I'll never be able to form my own opinion. I want to see it for myself and for once, decide based on information I actually know," he said. "Simple as that."

She frowned and leaned away from him, her drink empty by now. "Why can't you take my word on it?"

They could hear noises coming from outside.

"Eileen," he said as kindly as he could. "I've known you for just a few months."

"You know me for five years!" she said, raising her voice. "And I'm Rosier and you're Potter. I know what I'm talking about."

"Implying that I don't?" he said calmly, but there was a cold, unpleasant feeling inside of him. It felt like a calm before the storm.

"No," she said quickly, and her eyes widened. Her hand twitched. "Implying that you should trust me," she added in a small voice. "There's nothing for you at my house. Please. Don't come." She reached for his hand, and squeezed it. "There's a lot more out there for you than a bunch of misguided Purebloods.

Harry frowned. He _could_ just leave Britain until it was all said and done, and live his own life for once, but even thinking about it was futile. He _belonged_ in the thick of the things, and with every cell of his body,, he knew he'd be there, just as he has always been.

He let her hand fall, through his loose fingers, and she blinked, her eyes only a tiny bit wet.

"I _have_ to," he simply said.

"Fine then," she said, in a higher voice than usual, and reached for her mug, realized it was empty, and almost broke it when she slammed it against the bar.

The noise outside grew louder.

"What's that?" she said loudly.

"Squibs," the barman said. "It's about to begin. They ought to know better?"

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"This is the only full magical village in whole Britain, perhaps wider, and folk like it that way. They have no business rioting here," he said, and frowned, but Harry thought it not completely honest. "They're just trouble."

"Let's go and see what's that all about," Harry told Eileen, and they shared an awkward look.

"Alright," she said after a moment. "Sure."

As they walked towards the large of people, Harry noticed the heavy air between the two of them, and sighed. But if he is about to stick with his plan, he will have to step on a few toes every now and then, and that was a fact. He was only sad because her ones had been one of them.

"It'll be alright," he said quietly once he couldn't put up with silence no more.

She glanced at him, and her mouth twitched. "I know. We'll make it work."

He didn't fully understand what she had meant, but grinned nonetheless, and a small smile broke out on her face too.

The crowd was bigger than Harry expected and he was surprised to learn that there were _that_ many Squibs around. He reckoned some of them were actually wizards, but still, on the small Hogsmeade's square, it was quite a stir.

Above them all, Harry recognized McKinnon and figured he was standing on some sort of a stage. He was waving at the crowd, and they cheered back.

Harry and Eileen stopped before they joined them, having no intention to yell to hear each other.

"The Ministry sent cavalry," she said, and indeed, at strategic positions around the crowd, Harry noticed grim wizards in robes he vaguely remembered as this or that Department outfits. They eyed everything going on around them, and even at this distance, he could see them clutching their wands stronger than necessary.

McKinnon pointed a wand in his neck that was red for some reason and started. "Greetings, everyone, and welcome," he said, and his amplified voice made it all over the Hogsmeade.

He coughed roughly, but smiled once he got the hold of himself again. "Just a cold," he reassured. "Anyway, I'm glad to see that we've managed to get such large numbers today as they will be needed if we are finally to be heard. And heard, my good fellows, we shall be!"

Crowd loved it. McKinnon was all smiles and nods, and it served it well, as far as Harry could see. If only his face wasn't so red.

"This is no ordinary meeting though." He made an appropriate, dramatic pause. " It's a milestone! It is my great pleasure to announce-"

The cough interrupted him again, and McKinnon looked at his hand with a strange expression on his face. And then, suddenly, he clutched his chest with a pained expression on his face, and fell on one knee.

The crowd started to stir and yell, but not much of it made sense.

A couple of Ministry workers tried to make their way through the people, but it was slow progress.

_Too slow,_ Harry noted, as Eileen leaned to him and he put a hand around her. They both knew it was over.

McKinnon was now on his both knees, and made inhuman sounds as he tried to catch his breath. By now, all his veins were visible, black and thick, pulsating with something Harry was better not knowing about.

The strength left McKinnon and he had to catch himself on both of his hands to prevent his further falling. With another sound, he started to throw out blood, red and scarce, and it went all over his hands that shoke, weak and unsteady.

After the moment that seemed to last forever, he dropped, his skin black, and his eyes with no sparkle in them. A little _flop_ was heard next, and then the chaos followed.

Wizards apparated around Harry, others disapparated away. Squibs were running in all directions, stepping over each other, pulling and pushing, screaming like there was no tomorrow.

In the midst of it all, the spell flew into the sky.

Harry felt his brow sweating as a familiar sight greeted him; it appeared over them, floating like a blurry cloud. It was a giant skull, made of thick smoke, and out of its mouth, like a tongue, the green snake jutted out, slithering and elongating.

It was the Dark Mark.


	5. Great but Terrible

Harry was restless, and while he missed his cloak, Dumbledore helpfully had told him there are other ways to become invisible, so with a week of preparation, he was once again able to stroll through the empty, chilly halls of Hogwarts, thinking about life questions, as usual.

The assassination had opened his eyes, and even though he knew it was only a question of time when would the action start, it shook him much more than he was comfortable showing to his new friends.

And so it was, he turned left and right, right and left, completely lost in his tracks, trying to figure out exactly what he was doing. Months had passed, and he did nothing, but made friends with a bunch of questionable characters.

_Questionable characters that you like,_ the voice in his head reminded him. _Who understands you better than anyone before._

Left and right, right and left.

And it was all so very wrong. He was Gryffindor but he was also Slytherin; he understood it more each passing day, and the more he understood it, the more peace he made with it. He understood House's propaganda. After all, he lived through some of it, because he wanted to learn all magic, and because, minus the whole blood thing, it started to make a frightening amount of sense.

His stomach twisted, in a most uncomfortable way, when he heard the soft sob, just around the corner.

It was something he couldn't ignore and he made haste there only to see his own mother, sitting all wrong on the cold floor, her pretty face twisted oppositely of brightness that usually shone there.

She was yet to notice him, and he hesitated. He never knew what to do with crying girls.

"Hi, Evans," he said softly, stupidly, and it made her jump, but unlike him, her first reaction wasn't to curse, but rather to shrink into herself more.

"Oh, Potter," she said, her voice higher than he remembered. "What are you doing here?"

He shifted his weight. "I thought I heard something. Can't sleep, you know."

"Me neither," she said in a small voice, hugging her knees. "Do you, err, want to sit down?"

Harry looked down at Lily, and shrugged, and joined her. The floor, surprisingly, was warm.

"Have you been in Hogsmeade when it happened?" she asked him after a moment of silence.

"Yes," Harry said evenly.

"Me too. In front lines. I just wanted to hear McKinnon speak. He seemed so passionate about doing the right thing, something nobody else did. And he," she sobbed, "he got killed because of it."

Harry let her collect herself. "People got killed for less," he responded absently and winced when he heard his words were said out loud. "But that's not the real issue here, is it?" He chuckled with no humor in it.

"No," she agreed. "How can people allow it? How can anyone stand idle as people die in front of them."

Harry sighed, a dark feeling growing in his chest. He knew people who thought just like that and he had wanted to be one of them once. He knew the whole Order of people who got killed for it too.

"I guess they want to feel safe, and they don't want to put their families at risk," he said. "It's easier, right? To do nothing."

"But it's not right!"

Harry sighed again. He had no idea what was right at this point.

"It's not that simple," he said. "What is right and what is easy aren't the opposites. There's a million little things in between, each of which is pulling you toward one or another course of action, and all of them are probably wrong. I've no idea what to do."

He glanced at her, and she blinked at him, her mouth slightly open. "What do you mean?" she said at last, and he had to wince again. He ought not to say that, but it seemed easy to talk to Lily. It was natural and easy, like casting _Lumos_ for the hundredth time.

She narrowed her eyes. "You know more, don't you? You and Black. And your friends."

"Yes," he said and nodded, a slow and tired move of his head. "There's a lot of talk in the dungeons."

"Did you know?" she asked, and her voice broke in the middle of it, and Harry remembered Regulus' _warning_ the morning before the attack. It made much more sense after, though.

"No." It was both a lie and a truth. "But I knew something would happen." He felt her shivering next to him.

"And- and you told no one?"

Harry felt a sting of anger rising in his stomach, but swallowed it down. "They _knew._ Everyone knew. The village was packed with Aurors."

"Crouch said they'll tighten the patrols!"

"Lily." Harry sighed. "Have you ever seen an Auror?" Her look was enough of an answer. "There were at least five in Hogsmeade. Other ministry people too."

"I didn't know," she said then, and looked at him with wide, _oh so familiar_ , green eyes, and Harry saw there both judgment and fear. And determination. And naivety.

"You will," he simply said, without any idea how to explain it properly, and with zero intention of trying so. Perhaps it will save her, if she is to stay in the dark long enough. "Everyone will know soon enough."

"About Voldemort?" she asked and Harry almost winced.

"You shouldn't say the name," he said, even if he didn't agree with it. He didn't want her saying the name. Perhaps… "He knows. He always knows."

But it was the wrong thing to say. She stood up and took a step, her eyes even wider. "You know him," she whispered. "That's how you knew. You're in league with him." He stood up too and tried to come closer, but she raised her wand and took another step back.

"Stay away from me!" she said in a shaky voice. "You- you- just stay away from me!"

And Harry did. He tilted his head, and watched her leave, glancing behind her every few steps, and fear in her eyes felt worse than _C_ _rucio._

He had no idea how long he stood there when another voice startled him.

"Are you alright in there, Mr. Potter?" Deep and rich voice, gentle, with a touch of concern in it. He knew only one person with such a voice.

"Quite alright, professor," he said and turned around to face him. "Got lost in the moment, I'm afraid."

"Ah." He nodded as if he knew exactly what Harry meant. "Understandable. Although one should do so in the privacy of his common room at this time."

Harry smiled a little. "Err, right, professor. Sorry about that."

But Dumbledore just smiled, towering over Harry, with the ever-present light in his understanding, blue eyes. "No harm done. None at all. But I'll have to escort you back to the dungeons, and take, let's say, two points for a poorly chosen place to contemplate"

"Alright," Harry said, and they started walking, sharing a comfortable silence, and Harry felt like in the old days.

"Professor." He broke the silence once they were close to the entrance. "Did you overhear Lily and me talking back there?"

Dumbledore took a moment before he responded, as if he wasn't sure whether to admit it or not.

"I did," he said at last. "I was having a disagreement with old Pontiff Laudran, just the hall away, when you arrived. Alas, it could not be helped. I have excellent hearing, you see."

"Err, Laudran, sir?"

"Just the painting, I'm afraid." He chuckled. "I met him when I was a student myself, and being quite the enthusiast about transfiguration, I couldn't pass the opportunity to have a word with one of the greatest minds in the field. Up to this day, we are yet to agree on the simplest principles of it."

"Right, sir," Harry said.

"But I digress," he said and took a deep breath. "It was an unfortunate conversation, if I may say so. Misunderstanding born out of poor choice of words, and yet, you may have made a friend back there."

Harry bit his lip. "You think so, sir?"

"Miss Evans is an intelligent student and has a gentle heart. I'm sure she will come to understand the seriousness of her accusations and see her error in assuming before knowing for sure."

"And what if she's right?"

Dumbledore stopped and turned towards him. "Is she?"

"No," Harry quickly said. "Not fully. I think I've met him." He decided on half a lie while Dumbledore's eyes never left his own.

"He always knows," Dumbledore softly repeated Harry's words to Lily. "It did strike me in a wrong way, if you understand what I'm saying." He shook his head. "But even Voldemort would not bid students who haven't sat their OWLs yet to do his work for him."

Dumbledore searched his face and asked, "What is it that you want to ask me, Mr. Potter?" his voice only a tad colder.

"What to do if your friends were set to make wrong choices?" he quickly asked before he lost his nerve. "And you can't show them differently?"

"Do you agree with them?" Dumbledore asked instead.

"More no than yes," Harry said, but then added, more softly, "but sometimes I understand them. And I think of them as my friends. I want to think about them as such!"

"What is easy and what is right," Dumbledore mused. "You were quite correct with your assessments of the choices that lie in front of us. And you're asking me to make that choice for you."

"No, sir," Harry said quietly and looked down. "I already know what I want to do."

"Ah," Dumbledore said, and in that simple sound, Harry heard all of the emotions in the world. He felt closer to the Headmaster than ever in that moment, and when their eyes met, Harry was sure that for both of them, it was like looking at the mirror. "So be it. But wherever your path takes you, my boy, never think that you are alone. My doors will always be open to those in need of help, no matter what."

"Even to Voldemort?" Harry asked, and he caught Dumbledore out of his guard, but he quickly collected himself, and then, after a long moment, he nodded.

"Even to him. If I were to believe his intentions genuine. After all, we're all just men. Even I." He made a pause. "Even Voldemort."

"You think so?"

"I _want_ to think so."

Harry gulped and nodded. "Thank you, professor. It means a lot," he said and made his way back to the common room quickly, not looking back. Not trusting himself to do so.

"It was my pleasure." He heard Dumbledore say and felt the weight of his eyes on his back the whole way.

* * *

The rest of the term passed quickly, and Harry spent most of it buried in the books, hoping the others would leave him alone, but he was only partially successful; Wilkes was there most oft than not, but at the very least, he'd rarely talk if not asked something directly, and Harry counted it as a win.

"You're troubled," the boy finally spoke up on their last day in Hogwarts, and by then, Harry had almost forgotten how Wilkes sounded. "Is it your cousin?"

"What? No," Harry said. To be truthful James and Sirius avoided him as much as he did them, and for now, he was content with it. He knew he couldn't avoid them forever though. He'd seek them sooner or later. His heart told him so.

"Is it Regulus, or Snape?"

Harry closed his book, deliberately slowly, and looked at Wilkes.

"Are you asking me on your own accord?"

But Wilkes just grinned, and not pretty at that. "We've already had this conversation." His grin turned into half a sneer. "Are you not one of us?"

"Well," Harry started carefully. "I thought we are friends."

"Friends?" Wilkes blinked, a strange expression on his face as he ran through his dark hair with his hand.

"Yeah?"

Wilkes made a bemused face. "I suppose we can be friends. Share secrets and so, right? Well, let's start with why have you been avoiding us."

Harry had to laugh. "Aren't you a cheeky bastard? Alright then. I've wanted some time for myself. To think things through."

"That so?" Wilkes said and narrowed his eyes. "Avery told me you wander through the castle at night. Often."

"Avery should mind his own business." Harry raised his voice. "Lest he wants me to poke in _his_ business. There's a lot I could let slip, you know?" The soon he said the words, he'd regretted them, and sharp intake of breath from Wilkes only confirmed it.

"Will you let it pass?" Harry asked quietly after a moment. "I didn't mean it."

"But you _did_ mean it. You've been thinking along the same lines for a while, and I've been right here, watching you."

It came only then to Harry how much he had underestimated the other boy, and he gripped his wand under the table, not at all confident about the strange glint in Wilkes' eye.

"And I let it pass," Wilkes continued. "We've warned you. It's either us or them."

How Harry hated it. To choose, and choose, and choose again.

"It's simple."

It was anything but.

"But I'll let it pass. Because you'll be spending next few weeks with Rosiers, and then you'll see for yourself."

"I'll see what?" Harry asked, desperate to change the topic.

But Wilkes stood up and said," You'll see. I need to go."

Harry hesitated. "Will I see you on the train?"

"No. Evan and Avery will be with Black and Snape, and Mulciber and I...elsewhere."

"Alright. See you."

"Later, Potter," he said and gave Harry one final glance that sat wrongly with Harry. Like he missed something he should've picked up. He looked down at his closed book and sighed; he'd lost interest in it. Without further ado, he stood up, deciding to go pack his stuff.

But of all people, Regulus and his goonies waited for him just a few halls away from the entrance. The hall they've had nothing to do in. Unless they knew.

His first thought was that Wilkes betrayed him for some Slytherin powerplay, but it made little sense in his mind. Perhaps to teach him a lesson…

"Lo Potter," Regulus said, and there was an extra hop to his step, as if Christmas came early. "Fancy seeing you here. Who would've thought, heh." He grinned, wide, showing his teeth, with little joy behind it.

Harry gulped. "Black," he said and nodded at him. "You've got lost?"

"Hah! Something like that. But luckily for us," he said and waved his hand. "Little somebody was kind enough to point out this place to us. It's supposed to be only a minute away from the common room."

"It is. I can show you the rest of the way," Harry said. "I can even draw you a map if you ask nicely."

"You're a funny one, I'll give you that. But there's also something else about this hall."

"Oh?"

"The accident happened here, somewhere around 46' if father is to be believed, that made it different from others."

"How so?"

"You see, due to magic unknown, the sound is unable to escape the hall." Regulus' grin spread with each word. "No echo either."

Harry had heard enough, and in hope for a surprise attack, he went for his wand, but before he could truly grasp it, the spell hit him in his back, and the wand left his hand, disappearing somewhere behind him.

"We've already established your dueling skills so I figured this would be easier if you had no chance," Regulus said almost apologetically and looked at someone behind Harry who was too tense to look for himself. "You have my thanks, Snape." He made a twist with his wrist and Harry saw his wand flying in Regulus' opened palm.

"Snape," Harry whispered and shook his head. He should've known.

"Nothing personal, Potter," Snape said smoothly. "It's just good business."

"Aye." Regulus chuckled. "Scram now, half-blood." Harry heard steps quickly becoming quieter and quieter, and then, just as Snape made a turn, a sound disappeared.

"What's this all about?" Harry said, putting on a brave face, hoping he sounded so too.

Regulus shrugged. "I don't like you. I don't like you hanging out with Eileen. I don't trust you. Pick one."

"So what now?"

"I promised Selwyn and Parkison to have some fun with you," Regulus said and frowned, and turned towards his goons, who were both smirking. "You know the rules."

"Sure," one said and stepped forward.

"See you at fifteen then," Regulus said and left.

Harry could do nothing but take a deep breath and hope for the best. They've had nothing on torturing curse, but the pain spreading through his body was more than real, and soon enough, he was on the floor, bruised and bloody, blind without his glasses and almost naked, his robes destroyed beyond any help.

But through all of it, a single question was repeating itself in his mind. _Who told them?_

* * *

When he entered the common room no one approached him. In truth, they acted as if everything was normal, but Harry knew better. He saw badly concealed smirks, giggles, and his fellow Slytherins reevaluating his worth, and most likely, finding it non-existent.

But he refused to show anything; he walked to his room with his back straight and gritted his teeth as he tried to walk normally, without dragging his leg behind him.

"Ah, fuck," Mulciber said when he saw him and grabbed his wand. Harry didn't care. He didn't care that Snape was there either, saying nothing and eying him with some sort of internal battle going behind his black eyes. He just dropped on his bed, on his belly, and hugged the pillow.

"Snape, can you pack him?" Mulciber asked, and took a few things from Harry's trunk; robes, socks, and underwear. "Come on Potter, to the bathroom. The train is leaving in an hour. We gotta make you presentable by then."

He heard Snape whispering, and indeed, the ruckus of things bumping in things, as they all rushed in Harry's trunk echoed through the room. If he had thought Harry would accept that as an apology, he was living in a strange fairytale, but he was in no mood to start things now.

"Who cares?" Harry said, but his own voice betrayed that he at the very least cared. His voice never sounded so hollow to him.

"What the fuck happened?" Mulciber asked in a low voice, and Harry felt his arm correcting itself, sharply and painfully.

"Black," Harry simply said and heard Mulciber cursing softly.

"Evan won't be happy, but he won't do much about it either. He can't."

"Fuck Evan," Harry growled. "Fuck you too."

But Mulciber just chuckled. "Been there Potter. Done that. S' not fun, I'll tell you."

Harry didn't laugh, and he heard Mulciber sigh. He let the bigger boy drag him into the bathroom, and cast more spells on him, and clean him. As much as he tried though, he was unable to stop the overwhelming feeling from inside, and a single sob escaped him, sounding utterly pathetic in the silence of the room, and Mulciber stopped, whatever he was doing.

"Potter?"

"They bloody pissed on me," he said softly. "Like I was nothing. Less than an animal."

There was a long moment of silence.

"I'll have to stun you now. Your back will scar if I don't draw the magic out, and it'll hurt like hell," he said, but his voice was different than before. Like he was angry.

Strange enough, it helped Harry some, to have someone be angry on his behalf.

" _Stupefy,_ " Mulciber muttered, and then there was only black, and Harry was more than welcome to embrace the sweet nothingness.

It was hours later when he woke up, and he barely recognized his surroundings as an interior of the train, and the first sight he got, just over him, was pissed Eileen's face, whom he was probably using as a pillow.

"You bloody, oblivious fool," she said coldly, and Harry winced, deciding to close his eyes again, and focusing on breathing. In and out. But she wasn't done. "I told you not to mingle with my brother. I told you to stay away from Black. And what have you done? The opposite, of course, and now you're about to mingle with even more dangerous men. You fool."

_In and out_ , he thought and then said, "It couldn't be helped. I have to do this."

"Do what?" she practically hissed. "Get yourself killed for a tidbit of power and recognition?"

He really thought she knew him better than that, but he didn't comment.

Her voice became softer. "We could've stayed away from all of it, together. We still can."

He opened his eyes, straightened, and opted to take a seat across her, all while her eyes followed his every moment. He found his wand inside the robes, and did a few charms, for breath and hair, even though the latter did nothing. "You know we can't."

"And pray tell, why not?" she asked, her voice both mocking and hurt, and it tickled Harry the wrong way, but there was little to do about it.

He decided to tell the truth for once. "Because I'll never be happy standing on the sidelines, and doing nothing. I _have_ to be a part of the future, no matter how, and this is how I chose to do so."

She scowled, but without any surprise on her features, as if she had already made her peace with it, not looking at him. "We're close," she said instead. "You were off for a long time."

"Eileen," he said softly, and she looked at him, her grey eyes finding his green ones. "This changes nothing between us, right? I'm still your friend."

Her mouth twitched. "If you're so content to be a fool, then we'll be fools together."

He smiled, and breathed, feeling the weight coming off his shoulders, which he didn't even notice was there. "I'd like that, I think."

And then she smiled too, barely, but Harry knew it was there and recognized it as an honest one, and it made him that much happier in return.

The rest of the journey, they spent in a comfortable silence, stealing glances between themselves, but mostly engrossed in the books they pulled out.

And then Evan barged in, just as the train started to slow down. "Eileen, Potter, I hope everything's fine." He didn't wait for them to respond. "It's not only father waiting for us."

"What?" Eileen said and raised an eyebrow. "Who else?" She scoffed. "S' not like father has any _real_ friends."

"Come on now," Evan said, and helped them collect their stuff, and then added when they were about to exit the train, "I wouldn't call him a friend exactly."

Harry looked around, and it wasn't hard to locate their father, a tall man in pitch-black robes, grim and uptight, with a frown that suggested he'd rather be anywhere but here.

But it wasn't him that caught Harry's attention, no, for the man next to was much more at ease, and felt like a part of the crowd, like he had always belonged there.

He was taller than their father, and almost as slim as Eileen, and moved with a learned grace, like his every movement had a goal to it. When they started going in their direction, people reflexively stepped aside, and the space around him was never occupied, as if there was some sort of force pushing everyone away.

His face was pale and long, with few sharp edges that made his otherwise handsome face distinctive, but what really made Harry stop in his tracks were the man's eyes; They were not yet bloody red that Harry had remembered from the graveyard, but neither the blue of Riddle he'd seen in the diary.

They had the permanently bloody look to them, as if he had a bad night of sleep, but Harry somehow knew that no matter the sleeping schedule, those eyes won't change any time soon, if at all.

The man was looking at him too, his head tilted to the side, and Harry had the strong urge to just bolt away and never turn back.

But this was what he chose.

"Potter." Their father acknowledged him once he was done with the stiff greeting of his children and offered a hand that Harry took, not overly eager. "Imagine my surprise when both of my children mentioned you in the letters, hah, a Potter."

Harry smiled politely. "It's a pleasure, sir."

"I'm sure," he said, and pointed at Voldemort, "and this is- "

He did not offer his hand when he interrupted Rosier Sn. "I'm quite sure there is no need for the introductions, is there?"

"No," Harry agreed and gulped, as he felt like Voldemort tried to drill a hole in his skull with his glare alone. "It's a pleasure." He had no idea how to address him so he left it at that, but a small smirk told him that Voldemort noticed.

"Likewise," he said. "Rosier was the most sure he'd be able to apparate all of you at once, but I thought it prudent not to overextend him in his old age." He smiled, and Rosier Sn glared at him, but it was half-hearted at best. "Come on then, Potter." He offered and Harry watched at it longer than it was appropriate.

He gulped, took his hand, and just like that, without any sound, they disappeared.


	6. Gray, Tall, Endless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'm aware that the weakest point so far is Harry's OOCiness so I'll share a few of my thoughts about how I decided to go with it. Firstly, I could've chosen OC, and leave the previous chapters more or less the same, but writing Harry allows me more leeway in a sense of knowing other characters (such as Lily, James, DE) only through other people's recollection of them. In the end, he was able to forgive both Draco and Snape, and his inner strength is the character trait I respect the most so I'm trying to apply it to a thought: What if he wants to help everyone? And, by association, what if, when he surely realizes that such a notion is not possible, his choices become impossible? Hence, the summary, as a way to answer that, and to underline how the sheer notion of the right choice is absurd when there are so many factors contributing to every single one of them.
> 
> OOCiness, after that, was much simpler to justify. In the new world, amidst the unknown, one must adapt, and Harry chose a mask to do so. An act if you will. But then the question arises, how much can one act before he himself stops realizing the differences between his own character, and his own act. After all, repeat a lie to yourself long enough, and you might just start believing it.
> 
> It was either this, or writing a 50k long character arc to bring Harry to the state of mind I want, and I really think that's not the point I wanted to make with this story.
> 
> This is a writing exercise, really, to see if I can write the way I want to, rather than a story that makes 100% sense, but I still try to make it believable. If OOC Harry is a no-go for you - sorry.

The empty plain Voldemort and Harry appeared on was most certainly not a Rosier's house, and Harry immediately let the other man's hand while his other twitched towards his wand.

Voldemort's mouth twitched too. "Your instincts do you credit. But there's little to be afraid of," he said and waved a hand, indicating a lone house on the hill, not far away, but with a strong presence.

"Why are we not at Rosiers?" Harry asked.

Voldemort shrugged, a delicate move of his shoulders Harry recognized as an act. A very well practiced one. "A proper family such as theirs deserves some private time, Harry Potter."

Harry winced at the familiar sight, one he had visited only in a dream, but Voldemort paid him little attention and started moving towards the hill.

"I've heard some about you," he continued. "And your circumstances caught my attention."

Which was about the last thing Harry had wanted.

Still, he followed the man, carefully and slowly, with a wand firmly in his hand. "What do you want?"

He ignored that too. "Loss of a family, as tragic as it is, gives a wizard some perspective." Voldemort sounded like he was giving a lecture. "It makes us grow faster, and it forces us to see what truly matters, rather than to waste our time on schoolyard follies. Do you understand what I am talking about?"

"Duty," Harry said and opted to go along with whatever this was. For now. "Legacy."

Voldemort nodded and added, " _Cause_. Sometimes, depending on the loss, that cause may be revenge, but that's just a cloud in one's mind, fogging the view of what matters the most. I know as much."

"I have family left," Harry said instead, not wanting to agree with a man. The defiance born in him long ago. At least Harry felt like it was a lifetime ago, but he still remembered the spirit of cruelty and evil he knew the man to be. For a quick moment he wondered if he could get away with a quick curse in Voldemort's back, but he dared not to risk it.

"And yet you've refused their most kind invitation," Voldemort said. "Opting to find your own way instead."

"What is it to you?" Harry asked, and almost stopped when he saw the sudden tension in man's shoulders, that was gone in the very next second.

Voldemort stopped and turned around, tilting his head. "I was just making an observation. I meant no offense."

Harry took a breath and met his eyes. "None taken."

Voldemort placed one hand on the invisible barrier that surrounded the house, one similar to Wilkes' enchantments. "This." He pressed his hand harder, making the barrier glow. "Is the last remnant of mine, once powerful, family. Alive only because of blood still flowing through my veins, and accepting only mine blood as a payment." He cut his hand with a movement of a wand, and indeed, once it came into contact with a barrier, it shuddered for a moment, only to be gone in the next one.

"Come. I want to show you something," he said while Harry gaped. It was magic like none he'd seen before, and powered through but a drop of blood. His legs almost followed on their own.

The house was well lighted, with whole walls turned into windows, and most of the furniture was made of dark, brownish wood, but with enough green around to confirm to whom the house belonged.

They entered what had to be an office, the room that had only two chairs, and massive, bigger than it had any reason to be, desk in the middle of it.

Voldemort took a seat, his back towards the window through which Harry could see a small village on the other side of the hill, and so he took the other one, wondering if the number of seats was provided by some magic that still lingered around.

Even though the house was clean, Harry felt there was a sense of abandonment to it.

The table itself had a few items on it; a stack of parchment, some quills, and a delicate, silver letter holder with an enchanted snake engraved in it that danced in circles, in perpetuity.

Their eyes met again.

"Why, I can't remember when was the last time I've had a guest here," he said and chuckled softly, making the tension a tiny bit more manageable. "But I thought it prudent to give you that privilege."

"Why, though?" Harry asked.

"I wanted to meet someone from the new generations of wizards, and saw the kindred spirit in you."

"Oh," Harry said.

"You don't like the comparison," he stated, and Harry shuddered because of how easy he saw through him. "You must think me a monster. A murderer."

Figuring there was little sense to lying, Harry slowly nodded, and said boldly, "I haven't seen much to suggest otherwise."

Voldemort chuckled. "And hence we're here. If I cannot convince a Hogwarts student about the importance of my work, well, that would suggest I am doing something wrong." He frowned, as if he caught himself in thought that he didn't like. "And if I am doing something wrong, how are wizards to move forward?"

Harry thought it egoistic, but that much he already knew. It was a certain degree of weakness the man allowed him to see that made him tense and unsure. Those that did see his weaknesses didn't last long.

"What do you want to convince me of?"

"Young Evan told me that you've expected more from magic once you met its grandeur in Diagon alley," he said and Harry nodded. "So did I, in another time. Such a notion, same, but thirty years apart, suggests that something is fundamentally amiss, wouldn't you agree?"

Harry thought for a moment about it. Somehow, the genocide seemed to be an ill solution to it, and so he shook his head to collect his thoughts and to remember who the real enemy is.

"Of course I agree. But I don't agree it has anything to do with blood. Or muggles."

Voldemort waved his hand, as if batting away an annoying fly. "Irrelevant. With a clear vision of an aftermath, one should not trouble himself with sins of the path. It's the end that matters."

"But if you're doing it for wizards and witches, shouldn't they be there at the end? Err, to enjoy the future or whatnot."

Voldemort blinked, and Harry thought he saw a genuine surprise on his face. "Why wouldn't they be?"

"Because they're dead," Harry said flatly. "If the blood is irrelevant, why kill muggleborns? Why stop squibs?"

"You were there I assume?" he asked. "Then you must've seen their concerns." He sneered. "They would only ruin us further."

"And muggleborns?" Harry insisted, baffled about the whole conversation. The last thing he had expected was to have a civil conversation with the most feared man alive, and most of all, he still wasn't sure that he'd live through the whole procedure, but if there was a tiny possibility of changing his mind, if only a little, then he must try.

"They are tainted. They would see us akin to muggles, adopting their frivolities and non-sense."

"Aren't we all humans?"

The flash of rage passed through Voldemort's eyes, and he leaned forward, his eyes more red than blue. "Humans?" he whispered softly. Dangerously. "Muggles would see us dead if they knew about us for even they can see how much _more_ we are. Through fear and ignorance, they'd destroy the best the world has to offer. Mudbloods will always choose the world they come from over ours, for they do not understand what privilege they have been given."

He suddenly pulled out his wand and Harry flinched, but he pointed it in the middle of the desk, and started waving it, precisely and complexly, and the desk started to shift; from its wood, the whole miniature of a city started to rise. Harry saw all sorts and sizes of buildings, obviously magical with their unnatural proportions. He saw little people too, no bigger than bugs, flying around on brooms and carpets, waving their wands and creating the colorful fireworks over the city. There was even a Quidditch pitch in the middle of it.

"Can you see it?" he said, sounding almost afraid, but on a second look, Harry realized it was excitement. "Can you imagine it? But instead of building up, we build down, like rats. Like _Goblins_ ," he spat, and for the moment, Harry was able to see past Lord Voldemort, and see something behind the person he had created. A glimpse of a person that must've existed once.

"I can," Harry said, even though they weren't speaking about the same thing anymore. "Clearer than ever."

"I'm glad," Voldemort said, and twitched his wand. The town, as quick as it rose, was swallowed back into the smooth surface of the table. In an instant, his face hardened. "But now, we've got more pressing matters." He folded his fingers and leaned forward. "There are very few people alive that could recognize me on first look. It's certainly not something I'd expect from you."

Harry knew he was on a dangerous terrain now, and unmentioned threats were not lost on him. He took a deep breath to buy himself a few much needed seconds and met man's eyes. "The way you walked," he said, and it was the truth. That's how he recognized him. "And your eyes."

Voldemort watched him for a long moment, searching and gauging, and after what felt like an eternity, he softly exhaled. "Perhaps," he said, more to himself. "Were you planning to meet me?"

"No," Harry said. "Evan told me that someone will come for dinner, but never said who."

Voldemort smirked. "They're already coming." He stood up, and offered his hand. "Come now, they'll be waiting for us."

"Who?" Harry managed, as the pounding of his heart echoed through his head.

"My friends," he said, and Harry heard little warmth in his voice, but there was _something_ in it. Harry wouldn't call it love, nor even longing, but certainly a sort of feeling, something he didn't believe Voldemort was capable of. And thus, he stood corrected, much to his dismay. "My true family."

And even if Harry despised himself because of it, just before they vanished away, he felt little less hate towards Voldemort.

* * *

Harry had no idea what to expect back at Rosier's but an ongoing party was not what he had in mind. In truth, it was not much different from Slughorn's dinner party, but only with fewer people.

The blonde-haired men that had to be Malfoy made his haste towards them as soon as he spotted them, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Ah, Tom, here at last," he said with a thin smile.

"Abraxas." Voldemort nodded at man, and Harry blinked when no rebuttal came at the usage of his common name. "Good to see you, my friend. Guests?"

"Orion came with his sister-in-law, nasty bitch that one, but no other Blacks. Lestrange is here with his sons, buffoons the lot of them, but nonetheless…eager. Others you'll know."

Harry had to fight a smile. This man was nothing like Draco. But he was caught and the man narrowed his eyes with a slight frown on his lips. "And this is? No – don't tell me, I can see for myself. Messy hair, poor eyes, why, if this ain't a Potter I'll cut my leg."

Voldemort gave him an amused look. "Alas, you get to keep your leg. It's Harry Potter. From the other branch."

Harry nodded at Abraxas. "It's a pleasure, sir."

He barked, "HA. I'm not so sure." But he offered his hand anyway, and Harry had no options but to accept.

Man's grip was tight, and he held Harry's hand a moment more than it was strictly appropriate. "Didn't know you like 'em young, huh Tom?" he said, his eyes still on Harry.

Voldemort chuckled. "Just a passing curiosity." He glanced at Harry. "I think I've spotted your friends in the corner, Potter."

And Harry saw them too. Eileen and Rosier, noticeably secluded from the others, were furiously whispering something to each other, and movements of their hands were enough to convince Harry it wasn't the most pleasant conversation going around.

Still, he braced himself and went to greet them. "Evan," he said loudly, from a safe distance. "So this is your house?" He looked around, as if admiring it, but fooled no one.

"Ah, Harry, I welcome you, in the name of our family," Evan said loudly, and Harry was sure he was making an impression on _someone_. Then, he turned back to Eileen. "Isn't that right, my sweet sister?"

She rolled her eyes, and turned towards Harry. "So? How was he?"

Harry shrugged. "Okay, I guess. We just talked."

"About what?" she asked, and Evan made a sound. "Did he offer you something? Anything?"

"Nope. Nothing."

He could see in her face that it was not lost on her that he'd avoided the first question but she didn't press. But then he caught a familiar figure in the middle of the room, alone, sniffing some sort of food.

"Isn't that a guy you spoke with at Slughorn's dinner," he asked. Both she and Evan turned to see.

"Rookwood?" Evan said, surprise clear in his voice as he narrowed his eyes at his sister. "What would you want from him?"

"I was just saying hello," she said quickly. Too quickly to Harry's ears.

"Right," Evan said. He glanced at Harry and hesitated, but continued anyway. "You know we ought to pretend not to know him."

Now _that_ sounded curious to Harry and he raised his eyebrow. "That sounds like a very specific instruction," he commented lightly and they both turned to look at him, with a different level of wariness in their grey eyes.

Rosier Sn. saved them from the answering though, as he joined them and clapped Harry's back, his eyes darting between his children. "Ah, Potter, you arrived," he said half-heartedly. "Just ask for the elf if you are ready to retire. Now, if I could have a moment with kids…"

Harry obliged, nodded, and headed to the table with refreshments, found the same same wine Regulus gave him once, and poured himself a generous dose. It was ironic enough that the man who joined him looked abnormally similar to Regulus, if a bit older.

"Potter, is it?"

"Yes, sir," he replied.

"The man you arrived with…" he started under his voice, his eyes looking around them, and once it was clear no one could hear them, he continued, "You know each other?"

Harry opted to give the same answer as before. "We just talked."

I'm sure, I'm sure." He nodded. "You might not know, but I'm Regulus' father, Orion Black."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I know of you. And your sons." It was less than polite, but the fiasco with Regulus was still fresh on his mind.

"Ah, yes, of course, but if you would indulge me for a minute?"

"Speak," Harry said with a bravado he didn't feel.

"I heard you had some misunderstandings with both of my sons, and I'm here to rectify that," he said. "To apologise on their behalf."

It smelt foul to Harry, but there was little he could do but accept at, and so he did, but man did not leave just yet.

"And if you need anything, don't be a stranger. You're half a Black, after all. It wouldn't be prudent to forget about your kin."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Very generous of you, sir." He gave in to his Gryffindor. "Why though?"

"I just said it, didn't I?" he answered, his voice a bit higher. "We're kin. Good, Pureblood wizards, you and I. There's no need for us to be at odds, when it's so easier to be friends."

"Your son thought differently."

"He's young." Orion waved his hand. "I'll have a word with him."

Harry opened his mouth, but the man decided he was done with him. "Anyhow, I shouldn't leave my cousin waiting." Harry saw a woman waiting near the fireplace. "And, _please_." He glanced at Voldemort. "Do pass my regards."

And with that, he left. Harry watched him leave baffled, when it came to him; the man just wanted to get a favor with Voldemort, through him. The thought was scary, and he soon saw there was more than one curious glance towards him, and all of it because he had arrived with Voldemort, the man who was, or was about it be, their boss.

Scary indeed.

He hadn't even noticed Evan who joined him once again.

"Where's Eileen?" he asked.

He shrugged. "Asleep, probably. What did Black want?"

Harry sighed. "He heard about Regulus, I'd say."

Evan's eyes hardened when he heard that. "That prick. He came to gloat didn't he? Thought he can undermine our family, that inbred buffon… I knew it!"

"Err." Harry was unable to hide his amusement. "He actually apologized."

"What?" Evan almost yelled, and the lady closest to them jumped a little. "I wonder what's his game."

Harry shrugged. "So this is what you wanted, right? Can we talk now?"

Evan shifted his weight to the other foot. "It's not exactly what I had in mind. I never expected _him_ here, but maybe it's for the best. So, what do you think?"

Harry though for a long moment. This was only the beginning. "I think we ought to train harder once we're back at Hogwarts."

Evan grinned. "I knew it." He lightly punched Harry in the shoulder.

"What was that with Rookwood?" Harry downed the rest of sweet wine from his cup.

Evan carelessly looked behind his shoulder, and then whispered, "He's an unspeakable. They know all kinds of secrets. Dangerous folk, they are, and father knows it so he wants us away."

Harry knew it was a lie, but nodded along. "I hoped Eileen would stay longer though," he changed the topic lightly, but Evan's shoulders tensed.

"She's at odds with father. _Leave_ it. You can play friends again once we're back at Hogwarts."

"Oh, that's what we're doing?" Harry asked. "Playing friends?"

Evan's eyes narrowed, and he reminded Harry why others followed him so eagerly. The bigger guy took a step forward, towering over Harry and put his hand on Harry's shoulder where it rested, gentle but heavy. "I know you're new to this," he said, his eyes firmly on Harry's. "But if you continue to push me, I just might push back, and you won't like it."

Harry smiled, as best as he could, to show no fear, and inclined his head. "You're the boss, Evan. I meant no offense."

"You did," he said, and removed his hand. "But that's okay."

Harry ignored that. "I think I'll go get some air, if you don't mind. It's a bit crowded here." And with that, he left.

It took him nearly fifteen minutes to find a balcony, and he breathed in relief when cool air washed over his body, clearing his mind, and so he enjoyed the silence, and relaxed for the first time today. The headache started to form in his head, he knew, and he was tired of all the hiding and acting. But he was Slytherin now and it became his life. No wonder they all ended Death Eaters.

"Relaxing, I see." Harry heard and swiftly turned around, a wand already in his hand, but Abraxas just laughed.

"Hide that, boy, if you ain't using it. It's bad manners," Abraxas said. "Tom sent me to find you. He'll be along in a minute."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"We've got business to do."

"I don't," Harry rebuked.

"You're to be a spectator, if I understood correctly. You and that idiot of my son. Perhaps you remember Lucius? He was Prefect when you arrived at Hogwarts."

Harry nodded. "I do. It's hard to miss a Malfoy."

Abraxas laughed loudly. "Aye. The blood tells." He narrowed his eyes, the change so sudden it made Harry take a step back. "It never lies."

"You like your blood, huh?" Harry couldn't help himself, but the man barely reacted.

"I do." Abraxas nodded. "There was Malfoy around ever since the first stone of ministry was set in the ground. We've been here through many wars, and fought for both wizards and muggles, died by the hands of both. We never whined, boy, and we did our wizardry duty for centuries."

Harry had no idea what the man was talking about so he stood silent.

"We did it in hope our children would be free and happy, with their place certain in this world," he continued. "But tides are changing, and our role has been forgotten. We hide while our inferiors destroy the world, and their offspawns seek to control our world too."

"What is our role?"

Abraxas frowned. "Your parents forgot to educate you, huh? May be they waited for you to become of age, aye," he mused, more for himself. "We're the most powerful beings in the world. It is our duty to protect the world that was given to us by magic itself, and to guard all species it deemed worthy of living."

"But–" Harry tried.

"However," Abraxas said, raising his tone over Harry's. "When forced to choose between our inferiors and the world itself… It's tough, but all power comes with cost, and so we must be strong. We must commit the most grievous crimes and suffer for it, for if not us, who else will do so?"

Harry's headache got even worse as he tried to make sense of his words. "So muggles are destroying Earth?"

Abraxas shook his head. "They're destroying _magic_. And magic is what makes our world possible. One cannot exist without the other. If magic is gone." He shuddered. "So is the world."

"How are they destroying the magic? I'm not sure I understand."

Another voice replied, and Harry turned around only to see Voldemort. "Their numbers grow while ours do not, and so they spread, taking every bit of our planet for themselves, while the creatures of magic have less and less to occupy. Statue of Secrecy does not work in our favor no more, unfortunately, so the new order must arise."

"Precisely," Abraxas said. "You got it, lad?"

Harry just nodded, since he saw little sense to do anything else.

"Excellent," Voldemort said. "Now, if you're ready?" He offered both his hands to Harry and Abraxas.

Abraxas took it immediately, but Harry hesitated. "Where are we going?"

"People forgot that it is _us_ who are powerful. We are to remind them."

Harry hated how curious he was, but he needed to understand, and so he took the hand, and again, he vanished along with Voldemort.

* * *

They arrived in a dark alley, and Harry noticed he and Abraxas got hoods that weren't there before.

It was a chilly night down in the alley, and the streets were empty. The old, dusty shops were veiled in the darkness and protective charms. They were empty and lifeless, with an augur of mystery around them.

However, the small lodge at the end of the alley, still showed the signs of life; the linseed oil, charmed to last forever, provided a faint, reddish light that illuminated the sign over its entrance.

_The White Wyvern_ , the sign said.

"It would not do to be recognized," Voldemort answered his unasked question, and started walking towards the pub.

Harry followed. "What about you?" he asked, but Voldemort didn't reply.

Instead, he entered the pub, and with no options left, Harry followed. He noticed Abraxas and he looked like bodyguards, mysterious and dark, just like the alley itself. He figured it was appropriate.

It was a shady kind of place, with strange folk as regulars; wizards under the hoods with packages of all sizes and unknown origins, old, nasty-looking hags with their fingers deep into the raw liver, scarred, sad-looking men drowning in the strong, alcoholic drinks and many others.

Voldemort sat at the barstool, and the barman quickly served him, and bowed lowly, before vanishing somewhere behind. The rest of the pub seemed just as uneasy, now that Harry looked.

"Do you know what power is, Potter?" Voldemort asked softly, and he shook his head.

"It's not about being able to assert your own will over others, you know." He said and chuckled, a sad sound to Harry's ears. "Power is a _choice_. Allow me to demonstrate." He finished his drink and stood up. The room quieted.

"Friends," he said softly but some sort of magic carried the voice through the room, and echoed it back to Harry. "Years ago, I promised you I will return, and bring your ways to their former glory." He smiled. "That day has come." The murmurs went through the room. "At this sacred place, our kind used to be free, and the ministry had to seek our approval to come," he trailed and sighed dramatically, "And now, we have less space than ever. They think us scum, outcasts and renegades, but I say we are powerful. We are many and they are few. I say we take back what is ours!"

More murmurs, but Harry thought them all positive.

The grim man in a red cloak stood up, a wand already in his hand. "Under whose authority?" he said in a mocking voice, and Harry realized it was an Auror. "The ministry certainly doesn't approve of this little gathering. You ought to disperse before I start arresting your freakish arses."

Harry saw red at the proclamation, and he wasn't the only one. Voldemort was smirking, and no one moved for the longest moment, when the hideous hag, calmly eating in the dark corner, behind the Auror, stood up and almost gently pushed the dagger in his throat.

Auror made a sound, and his hand flew at the wound, but all around it blood kept pouring out, and in his widened eyes, Harry saw fear. No one moved.

"Aye," the hag said. "That's it." She leaned down to loot the body and threw his wand at the filthy man who almost greedily snatched it out of air.

"Thanks, Selena," he said in a rough voice. "I won't forget it." But the hag just shrugged as she pocketed a few Galleons.

"Power." Harry heard Voldemort murmuring, before he continued more loudly, "Ministry is no longer welcome here. Spread the word. Heed the word. _Live_ the word." And they nodded, crying in support or kicking their mugs against the table. The dead Auror lied forgotten in the pool of his own blood.

"Our business here is done," Voldemort said to Abraxas. "You know what to do."

Abraxas nodded and made his way into the crowd, and Harry followed Voldemort out.

"What the fuck was that?" he said, no longer able to stand in silence.

"The beginning," Voldemort answered. "Just the beginning."


End file.
